No Quiet to Find
by Mirage Shinkiro
Summary: G1, post-movie AU. After the disaster with Unicron, Jazz can't stop having nightmares about Prowl's near death. Can Prowl find a way to ease his pain, and can they push forward into the future? PxJ plus later RxW. Eventual sparklings
1. Restless

_Title: No Quiet to Find_  
_Author:_ Mirage Shinkiro

_**Rating:**_** M  
**_**Warnings:**_** mech/mech plug n' play and spark bonding,** a.k.a. intimacy between androgynous but male-"pronoun'd" 'bots. Granted, Transformers are canonically sexless despite having a social gender, but if mech/mech bothers you, don't read.

_Disclaimer:_ Transformers is the property of Hasbro, and although I wish I could make money off the TF franchise so I could be independently wealthy, I am not. Alas, I remain poor and am just borrowing the lovely robots.

_Summary:_ G1, post-movie AU. After the disaster with Unicron, Jazz can't stop having nightmares about Prowl's near death. Can Prowl find a way to ease his pain, and can they push forward into the future? PxJ plus later RxW.

_A/N, explanation:_ I hate the animated movie. Hate, hate, hate. But thanks to the endless but helpful continuity errors, resurrections, remakes, deaths vs. deactivations, ghosts, and spinoff series, I feel extra incentive to ignore the movie, or in this case, severely alter it for the sake of poor Jazz. So this one is for the Jazz and Prowl fans.

_A/N, story notes:_ Because of the tears that pool in Omega Supreme's eyes in the episode "The Secret of Omega Supreme," I am assuming that TFs are capable of some version of crying. Also, :: :: will indicate comm. link or inter-bond talking.

_A/N, units of time (source, TFwiki):_ nanoklik=1 second; klik=1.2minutes; breem=8.3 minutes; joor=roughly an hour; orn=a day; decaron=tendays; and vorn=83 years. The idea of Swoop as a medic is one I borrowed from several other fanfic writers, but I think LStarrunner is the original author of the idea.

* * *

oOoOo

_"Lo, thus by day my limbs, by night my mind,  
For thee and for myself no quiet find."  
"Sonnet 27," Shakespeare_

_**Chapter 1: Restless**_

With great effort, Prowl forced himself out of recharge. The quarters assigned to Jazz and him at Autobot City swam into focus, revealing the faint blue glow of recessed night-lighting that graced each cabin. Even in the relative darkness, Prowl could pick out the desk, couch, and door. What he wasn't sure of, however, was what had caused him to awaken, especially when he was still so weak. Most of his compatriots were still in the medbay, and First Aid had only released him two orns earlier. Much to his horror, he was on bed rest until further notice, too. So why had he awakened?

A quiet gasp — the sound of intakes hitching — pierced the room's silence. Prowl gingerly turned his sore head and gazed at the mech beside him. Jazz was curled on his side, facing away from Prowl, but even without seeing his face, Prowl knew what was happening. Jazz was having _that_ nightmare again. The same nightmare he'd had every night since he'd learned Prowl was in critical condition.

'Critical condition.' Prowl snorted softly. That was one way to put it. He had escaped death by such a fine line that First Aid thought only the bond between Jazz and him had kept Prowl's spark from rejoining the Matrix. Prowl shivered faintly. He'd never feared returning to Primus or becoming one with the Matrix, but he did fear leaving Jazz alone to grieve his death.

A second gasp, a shudder, a moan. The nightmare was getting worse. Summoning all his energy, Prowl nudged Jazz's back with his elbow. "Jazz? Jazz! Wake up. It's a dream."

Jazz jumped at the contact, then stilled abruptly. "Prowler?"

"It's a dream," Prowl repeated, keeping his tone soft, reassuring.

Jazz hesitated a moment, then rolled over to face his bondmate. Pools of coolant stood in his optics, and he buried his face in Prowl's shoulder and wrapped one arm around his waist. "Slaggit! It's the same nightmare every time." His voice was strained, gravelly. Tortured. "I keep seein' the footage from the security monitors. Megatron transformin', everyone shootin,' smoke pourin' from yer mouth . . ."

Prowl could hear the unshed tears in Jazz's voice. He titled his head further and kissed the tip of one of Jazz's sensory horns. "I know. I wish you hadn't retrieved the footage. Those images will haunt you for a long time to come."

"Ya almost died." Jazz's voice wavered. "It was worse than deactivation, it was — "

"Shhh." Only here, in the privacy of their quarters, could Prowl drop his persona, set aside his commanding demeanor, and allow himself something other than rules, regulations, and logic. "I know. First Aid said over eighty percent of my parts and systems had to be repaired or replaced."

"I felt ya slippin' away, leavin'," Jazz whispered.

Prowl listened without interrupting. For the entire time he'd been in the medbay, Jazz had put on a brave front, smiling at him, teasing him, and telling him jokes. His cheerful words had raised the spirits of the medics, Prowl knew, and had kept him calm as well. However, through their bond, Prowl had sensed a burning tension that now poured out.

"Yer spark was on its way to the Matrix," Jazz shuddered violently. "I didn't know I could hurt so much." The words were so low Prowl's audios strained to pick them up. "I wanted nothin' more than to go with ya."

Prowl managed to lift one arm and lay his hand over the arm that clutched his waist. "But I didn't go. I stayed. I will not leave without you, any more than you would leave without me."

Jazz still shook with pain, and Prowl wished he could do something more for his bondmate. Emotions had never been his forte, and his training in psychology had been limited to battle behavior and interrogation. He wasn't sure how to deal with lingering panic and grief, but he resolved to find out. Hoping to calm Jazz, Prowl kissed his helm gently and squeezed his arm. "Rest for now. I promise I will still be here when you awaken."

Jazz nodded, his head shifting against Prowl's shoulder, and hugged him tighter. After a few kliks, his systems powered down, and Prowl knew he was back in recharge.

oOoOo

Jazz knew he was in the Pit. Even after awaking and finding Prowl still alive, he felt a sense of agony so intense that he'd developed the sensation that he was outside of his body, watching another mech enter the mess hall and drink his energon. Unreal. He didn't feel _real_. Sometimes he didn't feel anything at all.

Numb.

Having choked down his morning ration, Jazz stopped by the medbay before his shift started. Several mechs had picked up this habit, visiting briefly before or after their shifts. Jazz and Rodimus Prime, though, were the only ones to bother the medical teams with questions, and Jazz kept his brief.

The automatic doors parted with a gentle _swoosh_, and Jazz stepped in to survey what was now a normal sight: hell. Every 'bot with at least triage or mechanical training had been drafted to watch, feed, clean, tweak, or operate on the gruesome casualties. Staring at the scene, Jazz shuddered, remembering the countless nights he'd recharged in a chair by Prowl's repair berth. And every joor he hadn't been on duty, he'd remained at his bondmate's side, terrified to leave him, not just because he might die while he was gone but also because he might die _alone_. Jazz clenched his fists, the horror burning through his circuits, and offlined his optics when coolant threatened to pool in them. Dragging air sharply through his intakes, he forced himself to relax and pursue his reasons for being there: to check on his remaining friends and to ask for help to stop his nightmares.

Resolved, Jazz walked further into the room, looking for First Aid, who was the acting CMO. Spotting him in one corner, Jazz started toward him, noting that the medic was repairing Bluestreak's arm. Apparently sensing his approach, First Aid glanced up, and the dull sheen of his optics told Jazz that the medic had taken no rest in orns. Jazz paused, feeling guilty for bothering First Aid when he was already overtaxed, and simply nodded to him in greeting. The tired CMO returned the nod before continuing his work, and Jazz changed directions, weaving his way through the exhausted helpers. Perceptor, Swoop, Grapple, Hoist, and all the Protectobots were busy with patients. Even Blurr had been stationed at the medical computer to speed-read files and flag important ones for reference.

Jazz headed to the intensive care unit, where Swoop was connecting fresh energon feeds to Ratchet and Wheeljack. Gathering his courage, he asked his daily question, the same question he'd asked a hundred times over Prowl. "Are they showin' any signs of improvement?"

Swoop's wings slumped, and he glanced at his current patient, Wheeljack. "Me no think so. Me Swoop know him Ratchet and him Wheeljack hurt as bad as Prowl." The Dinobot exhaled through his vents with an audible sigh. "But me Swoop like him First Aid's idea for surgery. Me Swoop believe it will work."

Jazz nodded slowly, letting his gaze rest on the battered faces of his longtime friends. Wheeljack had been found offlined and critically wounded inside the city, and Ratchet, like Prowl, had been dug out of the wrecked ship. Ratchet had been declared so damaged that First Aid's initial response was to leave him deactivated so his spark could depart in peace. However, everyone knew they needed the medic and the mechanic desperately, so strenuous efforts were being made to keep their sparks alive. Blurr had been researching surgical data for possible solutions to their injuries.

"Wait," Jazz said, his surreal haze pierced by Swoop's words. He attempted to clear his processor so he could focus. "If Blurr found the information First Aid needed to attempt surgery, what's he researchin' now?"

Swoop glanced over his shoulder, then leaned in to whisper in a conspiratorial fashion, squawking faintly to show his excitement. "Me Swoop let secret slip."

"Secret?" Jazz found himself curious for the first time since this nightmare had begun. With some luck, maybe he could return to Prowl that evening with some good news.

"Him Kup tell Dinobots great stories during off-hours!" Swoop flapped his wings with obvious joy.

Jazz nodded, well aware of the Dinobots' love for the old warrior's tales. "Yeah?"

"Him Kup tell story of spark returning from Matrix!" Swoop patted Wheeljack's battered chest for emphasis.

"_What?_" Jazz did his best to keep his voice down.

Apparently unaffected by Jazz's disbelief, Swoop continued. "Him Kup say Primus returned a spark through Matrix. Great dead warrior returned! Me Swoop let story slip to Rodimus Prime. Now him Blurr ordered to search for record of event."

Jazz turned his shocked gaze upon the pile of coffins against the medbay's far wall. Two of them already had carvings on the lids that portrayed those contained within — Optimus Prime and Ironhide. "A resurrection?"

Swoop tilted his head. "Res-er-rect-sion?" he asked, clearly confused.

With a faint smile, Jazz squeezed the pteranodon's shoulder. "A returned spark," he replied, then shook his head. "I guess. Primus could do anythin' he wants through the Matrix, I suppose." He paused, wondering if it were indeed possible for Optimus Prime or even Ironhide to walk the Earth again. "They say the Matrix of Leadership will light our darkest hours. Maybe there could be some way to retrieve . . ." He trailed off, finding it all too implausible.

"Him Blurr researching," Swoop repeated, clearly ecstatic with the possibilities.

Jazz glanced down at Ratchet and Wheeljack again, noting their blank expressions as they lay in stasis lock, hovering just shy of death. "If Primus did do somethin' like that, it must've been for a dire situation, and I'm not sure I wanna know what it'd take to trigger that kinda choice," he said, his tone uncharacteristically grave. "I'm havin' enough nightmares already."

Swoop squawked once more in a clear sound of sympathy, but Jazz knew the Dinobot couldn't help him with the nightmares. With a final look at his friends, Jazz nodded farewell to Swoop and left for his shift.

oOoOo

From his berth, Prowl stared at the desk chronometer and calculated that Jazz would return from duty in 12.72 breems. The time couldn't pass quickly enough despite the fact First Aid had cleared Prowl for ultra-light duty. Perceptor and Rodimus had visited with the delightful news. The two mechs had helped Prowl into a sitting position before giving him his energon; then, while Perceptor made a few more minor repairs to Prowl's frame, Rodimus had handed over a small stack of reports for Prowl to process and told him their current tactical status. Relieved to feel marginally useful again, Prowl had swept through the reports, reading the dry material with relish and making notes or signing off as needed.

Now he sat alone, work finished, pondering Jazz's condition and how to help him. Based on his observations, Prowl decided Jazz was functioning in a near-trance of pain. Prowl, too, was horrified by the fatalities, especially Optimus' and Ironhide's deaths, as well as the slew of casualties in the medbay. He had tried to comprehend their deaths, to initiate the grieving process, but his cerebral circuits had glitched at the mere attempt, causing First Aid to order him to deactivate that section of his emotional programming until he'd physically recovered. Seeing how depressed and anxious Jazz was, Prowl had accepted the acting CMO's order without question. For now, Jazz would have to grieve for both of them, and Prowl would have to be strong.

Still, that did not help Prowl know what to do. Jazz needed comfort, reassurance, or maybe something more. The tactician, however, couldn't form a plan of action. He had already done all he knew to do: love Jazz and show him affection in the small ways his energy levels currently allowed.

Irritated with his lack of progress, Prowl decided to call upon the help of a mech he secretly admired for his courage and concern, one who seemed to instinctively know how to help others. He activated his comm. link.

::Prowl to Bumblebee.::

A pause at the other end, then ::Prowl! You're awake and talking.::

Prowl smiled in spite of himself. ::Yes, Bumblebee. Are you currently on duty?::

::No, sir!:: Bumblebee's jovial tone carried well through the comm. link. ::I have third shift. Why? Can I help you with something?::

::I hope so. Please report to my private quarters.:: Prowl internally cringed. He'd never attempted this with anyone other than Jazz and a few close friends.

::I'll be right there! Bumblebee out.::

A few kliks later, someone buzzed at his door, and knowing it had been left unlocked in case of emergency, Prowl simply told his visitor to enter. The doors parted, and Bumblebee trotted into the room, smiling at the sight of Prowl sitting up.

"A few more orns, and you'll be walking again," Bumblebee noted.

Prowl nodded and gestured at the desk chair. "Indeed. Please pull up the chair. I . . . need your advice."

Bumblebee's optics widened, but he retrieved the chair and dragged it over beside Prowl's berth. "I'll do my best," he said, sitting.

"It's Jazz." Prowl rubbed his temples as his cerebral circuits ached. Sometimes he wished he'd been created with more grace in understanding or responding to emotional behavior. "He seems depressed. Detached, even."

The smile dropped from Bumblebee's face, his optics dimming to a pale blue. Slumping his shoulders, he crossed his arms over his abdomen. "I noticed. I've been trying not to think about it. Any of it. For Spike, Carly, Daniel, and my fellow Autobots, I've been trying to cheer up everyone and stay in good spirits. But the pain is crushing."

Prowl nearly cursed. He hadn't meant to upset Bumblebee by bringing up the topic. "I'm sorry. I didn't intend to make it worse for you. In fact, I want to do what you're doing, in a sense, by cheering up Jazz. The only problem is what I've done thus far hasn't worked."

Bumblebee's optics brightened slightly, and he sat straight again, although he kept his arms crossed, almost as though he were hugging himself. "Help, huh?" He paused, a frown marring his features. "The first step in answering that question might be to ask yourself how _you_ feel about all the death and carnage and what it would take to comfort you."

Prowl knew what he was implying: _Don't you care? Aren't you sad? Or are you as emotionless as the rumors always said?_ He shook his head. "Bumblebee, First Aid ordered me to deactivate those particular emotional subroutines for the time being so my cerebral circuits don't short-circuit while I'm still recovering."

Looking abashed, Bumblebee stared at his feet. "Oh. Right. I should have realized that."

Prowl started to reassure him that it was fine, but before he could react, Bumblebee jerked his head up to stare at him.

"That's it!" he said. "You need to ask yourself a question: what would benefit Jazz more? Seeing you express your grief so he could grieve with you, or seeing you be strong and unmoved like a rock he can lean on?"

Prowl rubbed one finger across his chin absently, pondering the question and playing out scenarios. He'd end up back in the medbay if he reactivated his subroutines, but if it would ultimately help Jazz, he was willing to do it. But what if his breaking down caused Jazz more stress instead? "I'm not sure. I can see advantages and disadvantages in both scenarios. However, I think if I did allow myself to engage in grief and caused myself to go back into stasis lock, it would hurt Jazz more."

"Why?" Bumblebee looked more thoughtful than curious. "What makes you say that?"

Uncomfortable with the question and unwilling to answer it, Prowl stared around the bare quarters that had been assigned to his bondmate and him. Grey. Cold. Sterile. As far as he knew, no one had occupied the room in stellar cycles. Unlike their cabin on the _Ark_ or their moon base quarters, there was none of the decorations or touches that showed Jazz's personality.

"Prowl?"

"I really shouldn't tell you," he finally answered, still uneasy. "It would technically be a breach of privacy."

Bumblebee leaned forward and rested his elbows on his knees. "I understand. But you know perfectly well I won't tell anyone. So do you want to help him or not?"

Unable to defy that logic, Prowl relented. "I believe that because Jazz has nightmares about my dying. He apparently has ever since he learned I was injured and offline."

"I'm not surprised." Bumblebee's gaze fell to his clasped hands. "I watched the blackbox footage with him. Or what was left of it, anyway. He screamed when he saw you get shot even though you were already undergoing repairs in intensive care." He nodded. "You're probably right, then. I suspect the fact you're alive is the only thing keeping him going, and it would scare him if you got worse again."

"Very well. Then I need to be the solid rock." Prowl sighed through his intakes, feeling like he'd gotten nowhere.

Bumblebee met his gaze. "More than that. Jazz thrives on life, on _living._ But more than ever, he's surrounded by death. You need to help him feel alive. Because you were nearly permanently deactivated, he needs to _feel_ you being alive. It's not my place to ask you for details of your relationship, but you're bondmates. Think about what would make Jazz feel alive and what would make him . . . I dunno. Sense your spirit, I guess."

Prowl nodded, understanding the veiled hint of the latter and brainstorming an idea for the former. He knew he'd need to drink extra energon and recharge again to build up strength, and he also realized he'd need more help. "In that case, I have one final request for you."

oOoOo

Feeling tired and listless, Jazz approached his shared quarters carrying two energon cubes. His shift had been spent making repairs to Autobot City, except for a short conversation Rodimus had him join when he contacted Ultra Magnus on Cybertron. However, Jazz couldn't yet rejoice in the fact that the Autobots had seized control of their home world once more. All he could do was look forward to spending an evening with Prowl, and even that had been delayed by Bluestreak's catching him in the rec room and asking him various questions.

"Hey, Prowler," Jazz called as he entered their quarters, only to stop and stare. "Wha . . .?" He glanced around the room, shocked at what he saw. A used sound system and viewscreen decorated the far wall with the couch positioned in front of them. A worn, crimson- and navy-checkered blanket was thrown over the couch's back, and a stack of musical and video media littered the once-clean desk. In addition, a faded but lovely painting of El Capitan hung over the desk, adding a splash of green to the otherwise grey room, and a jar of amethyst- and aqua-colored crystals glittered on the desk's corner. The lights had been dimmed to their night setting, casting a relaxing blue glow over the walls.

"Do you like it?" Prowl asked from the berth, his tone soft.

In his shock, Jazz had halted mid-step. He stepped through the door, letting it slide shut behind him. "Yeah! How did ya — I mean, where did ya . . . I mean, so much got destroyed and all . . ." He found himself at a loss for words.

"I had Bumblebee help me. He recruited Cliffjumper, Blaster, Sideswipe, and Sunstreaker. We were afraid we couldn't get it finished before you returned from your shift, so Sunstreaker sent Bluestreak to detain you in the mess hall."

"So that's what that little slagger was up to!" Jazz smiled suddenly, his entire spark warmed by his friends' efforts, not to mention his bondmate's idea. He sat by Prowl and handed him his supper. "It's beautiful, Prowler. Slaggin' fine job."

Prowl gave him the grin he reserved only for Jazz's optics and sipped his energon. "Good. I'm glad you like it."

Relaxing against the berth's back, Jazz also sipped his energon, reflecting that the decorations gave the room personality and reminded him somewhat of their previous quarters. However, at that thought, he suddenly choked on his drink and inhaled sharply through his intakes, trying to get his emotions under control.

He failed miserably.

Suddenly, the room seemed _too_ familiar, like a token of a past Jazz could never recover. Memory upon memory flashed through his processor: Optimus congratulating his troops after a successful mission, Ironhide's gung-ho battle cries as he opened fire on Decepticons, and Wheeljack and Ratchet, both unscathed and well, razzing each other in the medbay.

Jazz dropped his cube to the berth as dry sobs wracked his body. Prowl set down his own cube with a wordless exclamation, then pulled Jazz into his arms, hugging his smaller frame close.

"Oh, Jazz, I'm so sorry," Prowl whispered against his audios. "I thought it would make you feel better."

Jazz wrapped his arms around Prowl's waist, embarrassed but unable to control the outburst. He felt coolant escape from his optics to streak down his face. "N-no. It's great. I just —" He choked again, this time on his own words, and let his entire façade crash. He couldn't pretend it didn't hurt, that he hadn't been terrified, that he wasn't in hell. "We lost so many! Ya nearly _died_! They told me _you were dead _!"

And they had. Jazz suspected it before he got to Earth because his spark inexplicably jolted and left him with an empty feeling, but he refused to ask any questions or make any assumptions. However, when the ship had landed at Autobot City and he and Rodimus had debarked, a grim Perceptor and Blaster were awaiting them with casualty and fatality reports. At that point, Prowl had been listed as MIA, but he was presumed dead on the wrecked ship. Upon hearing the news, Jazz's processor had crashed and sent him into stasis lock.

Prowl kissed the side of his helm. "I'm sorry, Jazz. I never meant to scare you, and I don't intend to ever leave you."

Even with his bondmate's comforting presence, the words just kept pouring out. "When they brought me out of stasis lock," he continued between sharp intakes, "the only reason I could get up was because they had listed ya as MIA. I had to — I had to be sure."

"And you found me," Prowl said, rubbing his back gently. "Thanks to you, I've made a recovery, and Ratchet has a fighting chance."

"Thank Primus!" Jazz shuddered, but the sobs wouldn't stop. "But it wasn't enough to save Brawn, Huffer, Windcharger, and Ironhide." _Or Optimus, for that matter,_ he thought to himself, then remembered Blurr's research. _If only there were a way!_

"I know," Prowl replied, his words simple, but his own pain and empathy filtered through their bond. Even with his grieving subroutines offline, Prowl was obviously still affected. He hugged Jazz tighter, still rubbing his back and occasionally kissing his helm until he calmed.

With the emotions spent and confessions made, Jazz looked around their quarters again and was able to accept the familiarity. The room now seemed peaceful and soothing. "Ya did real good," he finally said, shifting to pick up his energon cube. "Sorry I flipped out on ya, man."

"It's fine," Prowl said quietly. "You needed to say all of that."

Jazz was too embarrassed to respond, and he tried to cover it by sipping on his energon. Prowl pulled him back to rest against his side, and Jazz settled in comfortably as they drank their supper, loving the feel of Prowl's warm arm encircling his shoulders. With his audios so close to Prowl's chest, he could hear the various whirls and hums of his bondmate's systems, which to him now sounded more beautiful than any music he'd ever discovered. He reached out with his senses, using their bond to brush against Prowl's mind, which was as orderly and poised as ever. That solidity, a calm center in the storm, made Jazz relax.

Apparently sensing his touch, Prowl opened their bond further. _::I love you.::_

_::I love ya, too,::_ Jazz replied, smiling. He tossed aside his empty energon cube and shifted so he could face Prowl. In response, Prowl set his cube on their night table and then drew his bondmate closer, brushing his lips lightly against Jazz's and then kissing him.

Jazz wrapped one arm around Prowl's neck as they broke the kiss. "I'm glad yer still here," he whispered. "I just wish that nightmare'd stop now. I don't wanna see ya any way except the way ya are now. I — "

Prowl interrupted him with another kiss, nibbling lightly on his lower lip. "Don't worry," he replied, shifting his weight and pushing Jazz onto his back. "You won't be having that nightmare again. I'll see to it myself."

Enthralled by the husky quality of Prowl's voice, Jazz shivered at the promise. "Ya will?"

Prowl responded by kissing down his throat and running one hand over his chassis. Encircling his bondmate's shoulders with his arms, Jazz gave himself to the touch with a faint moan. For countless, hellish orns, he'd thought he'd never feel this again.

Obviously encouraged, Prowl caressed his way down Jazz's chest, stroking him with light fingers as he licked the rim of one headlight. Jazz gasped and arched his back, his circuits tingling violently with a need long unfulfilled. Fingers found their way into Jazz's hip joints and massaged the wiring there even as Prowl moved to the opposite headlight and licked its rim. Jazz cried out, needing the touch so badly he had to fight an instant overload. Unable and unwilling to remain passive, Jazz responded, running his hands over Prowl's doorwings, caressing their edges until they trembled.

"Jazz!" Prowl moaned against his chest, his hands temporarily stilled. Then he renewed his touches, teasing responsive wires mercilessly.

Groaning in pleasure, Jazz slipped his fingers into Prowl's door hinges, rubbing sensitive seams. Prowl gasped, and in response, he ghosted his fingers over the closed door of Jazz's interface port. The saboteur knew he was doomed when the door triggered open of its own accord. "Love, I can't wait!"

Prowl scrambled to open his own port, and then Jazz felt the satisfying _click_ of his bondmate's cable sliding into his port. Instantly, streams of data passed between them, intertwining their thoughts and sensations. Jazz could feel Prowl's love and strength, his determination to soothe his mate, and his raw desire. Jazz responded with his own love and passion, caressing doorwings that now felt like they were part of his body as well, and at the touch, Prowl sent a surge of electricity pulsing through his body. Already too sensitive, Jazz bucked against him, screaming out his name as he overloaded instantly, and with their systems now synched, Prowl was pulled over with him.

For a long time, they lay on the berth, Prowl collapsed atop Jazz and unable to move. Jazz smiled through the afterglow, basking in the feel of Prowl's systems running in synch with his, their emotions pouring directly into each other. For the first time since Unicron had appeared, Jazz felt at peace, and yet he needed _more_.

"Prowler?" he whispered, gently stroking his exhausted bondmate's back.

"I know," he replied, their thoughts still flowing together. He relayed through their connection both his lack of strength and his willingness to proceed.

Jazz smiled and gently shifted until he'd rolled Prowl onto his back, carefully situating the doorwings in the process. Once he sensed his love was comfortable, he connected his own interfacing cable to Prowl, enjoying the resulting gasp as he did, then settled atop him, kissing his chevron, his lips, his neck, every bit of him he could reach.

Relaxed against the berth, Prowl moaned as Jazz nibbled his neck. The saboteur extended one hand, caressing a doorwing and loving the way Prowl arched his back in pleasure. However, with their connections now a complete circuit, the sensations created a feedback loop, causing their bodies to burn and rocketing them both toward a second overload.

"Do it," Prowl whispered, his doorwing quivering under Jazz's fingers.

"Prowler . . ." He paused as his relief washed through them both; he needed to spark-bond with his love more than ever before. He ran his hand over Prowl's chest, coaxing open his spark chamber even as he opened his own. Then he lowered himself chest-to-chest with Prowl, letting their sparks merge.

Warmth flooded him. Them. Jazz's sense of self slipped away as Prowl's essence raced through his, and they became one spark, one mind. The universe seemed to bloom within their merged forms: stars and galaxies spiraled through space, showering them with stardust and leaving their souls glittering and glowing. And weaving through it all like streaks of light was their love — shared, merged, multiplied, and expanded. The universe suspended itself within them, and then their bond exploded with their passion, overtaking them with an overload so powerful they cried out before offlining into instant recharge.

oOoOo

Joors later, Prowl onlined, realizing both Jazz and he had completed recharge without incident. In fact, Jazz was only semi-conscious, a smile hovering on his features. Through their renewed bond, Prowl could sense his peace and contentment. Satisfied that he'd stopped the nightmares, Prowl smiled as well and wrapped both arms tightly around his bondmate's waist.

Jazz shifted faintly and kissed the part of Prowl closest to him, which was his neck. _::Love ya,::_ he murmured through their bond.

_::Always,::_ Prowl replied, sending his love in a gentle wave.

Jazz grinned and slipped back into recharge. Considering his mission complete for the moment, Prowl also allowed himself to recharge for a few breems longer. After all, the most important thing in the universe existed between Jazz and himself, and it lived safely within them. Prowl could ask for nothing more, so he relaxed into the quiet peace of their bond.

* * *

_Postscript: Months have passed since I first wrote this chapter, which I intended to be a one-shot, and I suppose some people wonder 'Why bother? Death is a part of life, so deal with it. It's just part of liking ProwlxJazz.' As someone whose family is a story of death, loss, and multiple suicides, let me answer that question, even if only one reader ever does wonder: to live is to tacitly have hope. To write is to impact your audience. When I write, I can weave for myself and others a place of comfort and a place to escape to, even if just for a moment. I can't do that by focusing only on the darkness and pain. For better or worse, I write to heal myself, and hopefully I give something to readers as well. So here's to hoping this story comforts someone, somewhere._


	2. Grief

_A/N: Given the massive, multiple modes of reproduction possible in the TF universe, I'm going with a fusion of the G2 comic's Budding process (plus its resulting horror, the Swarm), the G1 comic's Creation Matrix concept, the G1 cartoon's Vector Sigma idea, and the fan favorite Spark-bonding ritual. Creative, er, "bridging" occurred as a result. _

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* * *

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oOoOo

_"Give sorrow words; the grief that does not speak whispers the o'er-fraught heart and bids it break."_  
-William Shakespeare

_"If you're going through hell, keep going."_  
-Winston Churchill

_**Chapter 2: Grief**_

Only quiet beeps and low electrical humming disrupted the otherwise silent medbay. A dim blue glow lit the repair berths, providing enough light to see but not enough to bother the recharging mechs. With noiseless footsteps, Prowl crossed the room and entered the ICU. As Jazz had reported, Wheeljack had regained consciousness.

"Prowl," the mechanic whispered, and with his mask removed, his attempted smile was obvious.

"Use your comm. link," Prowl said, sitting in the chair by Wheeljack's berth. Even with half his emotional programming either suppressed or deactivated, Prowl still felt a painful jolt in his spark. How long had he worked with Wheeljack? He'd lost count of the vorns, but what Prowl had always remembered was that Wheeljack had been one of the few mechs to be unfazed by his relentless logic. He'd become a good friend.

::Jazz must have told you I was awake,:: Wheeljack said, using his comm. link as ordered. ::They tell me Jazz has visited Ratchet and me every orn since we were admitted.::

"It's true," Prowl replied aloud. "He's been worried. Seeing you getting better has raised his spirits."

::And now you visit,:: Wheeljack said, his tone vaguely teasing, ::and something tells me it's not for business::

"Indeed. I've been relegated to 'ultra light' duty for the last ten orns." Prowl paused. Wheeljack had also been one of the few observant enough to realize there was more to him than logic. He was someone willing to look past the surface. "Even still, I'm on first shift, and I decided to visit you before reporting to my office."

::You mean you wanted to verify with your own optics that I was conscious and functional.:: The faint smile continued to hover on Wheeljack's lips.

Prowl reached out and squeezed his shoulder briefly. "You know me."

::Yes, I do.:: Wheeljack snorted. ::And I also suspect First Aid has ordered you to shut down your mourning subroutine.::

Prowl nodded. "He wanted me to physically recover first so I won't I glitch." He glanced at Ratchet, whose vital signs were stronger now; however, the medic still wasn't repaired enough to online. "Jazz said Ratchet was going into surgery again this morning." He cringed. Apparently it would be his eleventh surgery.

::Yes. First Aid will be replacing his tank and all its piping.:: Wheeljack glanced at his mate. ::I believe it'll be fine. I can sense him through our bond now.::

Prowl nodded. "That's a good sign." He didn't know how long Wheeljack and Ratchet had been bonded, only that it had occurred pre-Earth. Their relationship was far older than his and Jazz's. It hurt enough to think about the fact he'd almost left Jazz alone in the universe, or in a worst case scenario, dragged him into death as well. He suspected Ratchet and Wheeljack would both die instantly if one lost his life.

Wheeljack's smile faltered, then disappeared. ::Oh, no. Not even you normally look that grim. Rumor has gotten around, hasn't it?::

"Hm?" Prowl made the noise as noncommittal as possible, although he felt his spark lurch. Was Ratchet worse off than he thought?

::The sparkling,:: Wheeljack replied, and even through the comm. link his voice wavered. ::I'll admit to you that it's true, especially since I think Jazz learned about it, too.:: He paused, and coolant rose in his optics. ::I don't mind well-wishers, but if everyone starts coming in and telling me how sorry they are that the sparkling was extinguished, I think I'll go insane.:: He touched his own chest, just to the side of where his spark was housed. ::It'd be better if only the medics and high command ever learned.::

Prowl froze, the surprise crashing through every firewall and block in his CPU. The suppressed subroutines flared to life, the deactivated ones tried to come online, and for a moment, Prowl was sure he'd fall straight into stasis lock. _A sparkling? No! Wheeljack was carrying a sparkling! He and Ratchet had waited so long to . . . and with one attack it . . ._

Wheeljack seemed to focus on him, and he gave Prowl a worried look. ::Prowl? You _do_ still have all your subroutines locked down, right?::

"Yes, I do." Prowl forced himself to stand, to move. To not lock up. "But it still hurts. I'll not drag down your spirits, though. Jazz will be by later to chat with you, and I'm sure Bumblebee will, too."

"Sure, Prowl," Wheeljack said aloud. "But you're not bothering me, either." His vocal indicators flashed a crimson hue in clear worry.

Prowl nodded. "I wish to keep it that way, too." Without another word, he exited, heading for his quarters instead of his office. ::Prowl to Rodimus Prime,:: he said, activating his comm. link

A pause, and then the reply filtered through. ::Rodimus here. What's wrong, Prowl?::

::I seem to be suffering a momentary setback. As you ordered, I am reporting my problem and returning to my quarters.:: Prowl stopped before his cabin doors and punched in his access code.

::Good. I really thought we'd have to knock you out in order to get you to obey any order that gets between you and your work.:: Rodimus sounded half-teasing and half-worried.

::Not necessary. I wish to recover as quickly as possible and will not override First Aid's better judgment. Prowl out.::

The doors opened with a hydraulic hiss, and Prowl barely made it to the berth before he fell into stasis lock.

oOoOo

At first, Prowl was only aware of warmth, a pleasant heat that covered his back. Then he realized a weight pressed on his arm and someone was tracing his Autobot symbol. As his processor cleared, he onlined his optics. _So I wasn't hauled to medbay, and I'm lying on my side,_ he reasoned slowly, his systems blinking on one-by-one. _And someone is hugging me from behind._ "Jazz," he whispered.

A shift, and Jazz's face came into view. The hand on his chest stilled, but a warm palm remained above where his spark lay. "Welcome back, sleepin' beauty," Jazz said, a faint smile on his lips.

Prowl only had a vague context for the human cultural reference. "How long was I in stasis lock?"

"Ten joors," Jazz replied, his smile fading into a distinct frown. "If ya suspected ya were goin' into stasis, ya shoulda stayed in the medbay! And I know ya did feel it comin' on."

"Didn't want to overburden them," Prowl replied, stretching and trying to ease the stiffness from his joints.

Jazz tugged on him until he rolled onto his back, then moved to lie mostly atop him, one arm and leg slung over his body. He propped his other elbow on the berth and rested his head on his hand. "Prowler." The tone suggested an oncoming lecture.

Prowl settled against the berth, shifting until his doorwings were comfortable. "I didn't want to distress Wheeljack," he said, hoping to stave off his bondmate's ire. "He didn't realize I didn't know about the lost sparkling."

"Oh." Jazz sighed through his intakes. "I'm sorry. I was waitin' to tell ya 'cause I didn't wanna stress yer systems too badly. Since ya woke up, ya've had a lot of nasty surprises to adjust to."

"I know. And I appreciate it." Prowl reached up and ran one hand over Jazz's chest, hovering over the Autobot symbol. Over his spark. "However, I'm beginning to think my emotional subroutines are going to — "

That was as much warning as either of them received. Coolant sprang to Prowl's optics, running down his temples, and then the air hitched in his intakes, leaving him sobbing. With a wordless exclamation, Jazz grabbed him and rolled him onto his side again, this time cradling him against his shoulder.

Twelve orns of pent up grief, horror, and pain slammed through Prowl's emotional programming, fighting to escape all at once, and he found the words pouring out. "I'm sick of this war! I don't want to send any more Autobots to their deaths." He gasped, trying to get more air through his intakes. "I'm tired of no one being safe, no one being able to have a sparkling, for all the lives basically on hold." He wrapped his arms around Jazz's waist, clutching him tightly. "We're not really living! We're all holding back, watching our comrades' funerals, and then when accidental sparkings occur, it's like with Wheeljack! The sparkling's lost."

Jazz rubbed his back with one hand and gently kissed his helm. "I know, Prowler. I think allota us are waitin' for a miracle. But because it's a war, we really have to act on what we want now. Maybe Ratchet and Wheeljack got sick of waitin'. Maybe that sparklin' wasn't an accident."

"It's still dead!" Prowl shuddered, caught between his anguish and horror at being unable to bring his emotions back under control.

Apparently sensing his struggle through their bond, Jazz kissed his helm again. "Stop that, now. No tryin' to suppress or control yer feelings. Ya need to let all this out."

Unable to stop the onslaught anyway, Prowl let himself cry until he felt like he'd lost all his body's coolant. Jazz continued to rub his back, murmuring softly to him, reassuring him of his love, but when Prowl finally collapsed against his bondmate in utter exhaustion, he only felt hollow inside. Empty. As though every circuit and system had been crushed into dust, leaving him in a numb nothingness. He understood now how Jazz had felt, how everyone must have felt when Optimus had died, when the fatality list had rolled in. When they looked over all the 'bots in ICU.

Prowl offlined his optics and simply lay in Jazz's embrace, his logic circuits crashed and his emotional subroutines taxed. For once he wished he could fall into stasis lock and shut out the nightmare realm he seemed to have fallen into. But that was not reality, and he could not escape it. Even though he felt nothing at all, he had to keep walking forward. He could stop, but the universe wouldn't. For the moment, however, he couldn't move at all.

oOoOo

Early morning found Jazz sitting in the ICU, his chair positioned between Wheeljack's and Ratchet's berths. He stared at the goldish-orange walls, wondering why they had the right to appear so garishly bright, and waited for one of his friends to emerge from recharge. To his surprise, the sound of systems whirling online came from Ratchet first, and as far as he knew, this was Ratchet's first awakening since nearly dying.

Jazz jumped out of his chair and leaned over the medic. "Ratchet, my man. Ya awake?"

Dim blue optics blinked with a faint power surge, then suddenly brightened. After a pause, Ratchet's gaze seemed to focus. "J-Jazz?"

"Ratchet!" For a moment, Jazz thought he might cry in relief, but he simply took his friend's hand and squeezed it. "Glad to see ya online and talkin'."

Panic flashed through those blue optics, however. "Wait! Where's 'Jack?" The white and red mech thrashed faintly, but in doing so, his gaze fell on the berth next to his. "'Jack . . ."

Jazz heard the worry in Ratchet's voice. "He's okay. He was reactivated before ya were, actually. He oughta wake up in a breem or so."

Ratchet's optic ridges furrowed. "I don't want to ask, but I guess the truth can't be put on hold. How bad? How many friends did we lose this time?" He shuddered, almost as though his memory banks had suddenly assaulted him. "Oh, no! Ironhide! Brawn! Prowl?" The horror turned his optics also indigo in hue.

"Prowl's recoverin'," Jazz answered quietly. "He was in ICU with ya. Ironhide and Brawn, though . . ." He trailed off, not wanting to finish the sentence and definitely not wanting to reveal that Optimus was dead. The mausoleum ship, which would be sent to glide among the stars, was almost complete. It was one ship blast-off that Jazz sincerely hoped he could avoid watching.

Ratchet shuttered his optics and didn't speak for several kliks. The hand Jazz held, though, brutally gripped his own. Jazz watched in sorrow, knowing Ratchet's pain would only get worse when he found out his sparkling had died.

Jazz gave him a moment, then began with the less painful details, hoping to lift the crushing weight from his friend's spark. "First Aid's been the actin' CMO, and I think you'll be proud of him. Also, we managed to retake Cybertron at the end of the battle. No one's even heard a squeak out of the Decepticreeps, and the last we saw of — " He paused, not knowing how to explain Galvatron. " — how should I put it? Their illustrious leader?" He snorted, his sarcasm evident. "The last we saw of their 'illustrious' leader was him flyin' through space, careenin' off to who-knows-where."

Ratchet glared at him. "You know that's not the end of our Decepticon problem." He paused. "Wait, did you say we retook Cybertron?"

Jazz nodded and grinned.

Ratchet seemed to relax faintly. "Well, that's one piece of good news, then." He cocked his head. "And Prowl? How's his physical condition right now? Better yet, how's his _emotional_ condition?"

"Uh . . ." Jazz flinched. "He was doin' pretty well by suppressin' some of his emotional subroutines, but it gave out yesterday. Now he's holed up in our quarters and not showin' signs of wantin' to leave."

Ratchet nodded. "I'm not surprised. It's a good thing you love him so much, Jazz, because it's going to take all you have to pull him through."

"I know." Jazz let his shoulders slump. "Any suggestions, Ratch?"

"Glitch aside, Prowl's problem is the same as everyone else's." He glanced at his recharging bondmate and frowned. "We have to find something to invest ourselves in. Something to live for, to fight for. Some reason to keep going."

Jazz nodded. "Maybe havin' Cybertron finally back in our hands can be one reason. But for all of us, it may take more than one thing." He paused, his sensitive audios picking up the sound of approaching footsteps. "I guess I should leave ya alone and let First Aid take a look at ya." He paused again, realizing there were two sets of footsteps and neither sounded like First Aid's.

Twin faces, features the same except for helms, peeped around the door lintel. Seeing Ratchet awake, Sideswipe grinned openly while Sunstreaker simply snorted.

"Told you he was too tough and grouchy to die," Sunstreaker muttered.

Ratchet stared at the twins, then sighed through his intakes. "You two?"

"Ratch!" Sideswipe hopped into the room. Nearly bounced on his feet, in fact. "It's good to see our favorite 'Hatchet' awake." He whipped a box out of his subspace. "And we brought something for you."

Sunstreaker joined his twin. "Yeah. First Aid doesn't cuss and throw stuff as much as you do. So we have a get-well present for you." He smirked. "The medbay's not the same without flying wrenches and cussing."

Ratchet was shaking his head, but Jazz saw the smile hovering on his lips. He released his friend's hand and stood. "I'll leave ya to the dubious pleasure of yer visitors. It's time for my shift."

Ratchet nodded his farewell, and Jazz retreated from the hyperactive twins. As he crossed the medbay, the twins' boisterous voices filling his audios, he found himself smiling as well. Although he was slowly feeling better, grief still haunted him, but Jazz realized those who had survived needed each other.

Deciding his course of action, Jazz reveled in the sound of Ratchet's cursing and the twins' laughter as it bloomed through the bay.

oOoOo

That evening, Jazz puttered around his shared quarters, setting out some energon, turning on soft music, and dimming the lights to the nighttime blue glow. Pretending to work at his desk, Prowl seemed to ignore him, but Jazz felt his bondmate's distraction and caught stealthy glances aimed his way.

Apparently giving up on the charade, Prowl set down the datapad he'd basically been staring through for the past two breems and turned in his chair. "You're plotting something."

"Yep." Jazz paused, noting the cool, detached voice of his bondmate. He sounded like the logical tactician, and his face was smoothed into its impassive expression. Objective, calculating, all business — Prowl seemed to be his usual self. Except, of course, Jazz could sense his pain through their bond and knew that in a manner of speaking, Prowl was lying out his aft. "Give up and come over here." He sat on their 'bot-sized couch and patted the seat next to him. "It's time for our nightly energon."

A resounding sigh filled their quarters, but Prowl complied. As he settled on the couch, Jazz wrapped his arm around his shoulders and pulled him against his side. He picked up the energon and proffered it. "Here ya go. It's a nice brew. Tastes mighty fine, and it even has a faint kick to it."

Prowl leaned against his bondmate and accepted the cube without comment. After taking several sips, he even readjusted himself, settling in. Jazz smiled and hugged him close, then downed his energon in a few gulps.

"Can't savor it that way," Prowl said quietly.

Jazz tossed the cube onto the end table. "Nah, but I can hold ya better." He wrapped his other arm around Prowl's waist and kissed his chevron, which won him a faint shiver.

"I'll be fine," Prowl said, answering the unasked question hanging between them.

"I know ya will 'cause I'm gonna see to it," Jazz replied. "Now finish yer energon."

Prowl snorted faintly. "Aye, sir."

Jazz nipped his neck for the saucy reply, then left him alone to finish his energon. Once Prowl set aside his empty cube and completely relaxed in their soothing surroundings, Jazz launched his plan.

"Ya know," he began, a bit worried about his approach but knowing being direct was always best with Prowl, "I've been thinkin' about what ya said about puttin' our lives on hold. And when I talked to Wheeljack yesterday, he said he and Ratchet had been tryin' for a sparklin' on purpose."

Prowl tensed slightly. "On purpose? In the middle of a war?"

"Especially in the middle of a war, I'm thinkin'." Jazz paused, letting Prowl's logic circuits catch up. "We finally got back control of Cybertron, but we can't be waitin' for some second Golden Age. We've been together for twenty stellar cycles now. I think it's time to start talkin' about havin' a sparklin' of our own."

The frame reclining in his arms grew rigid. "You're insane!"

Jazz flinched, not used to such outbursts from his bondmate. "Am I? I almost lost ya, Prowl. If I had lost ya, I wouldn't even have a sparklin' as a testament to our time together."

Prowl pulled away and stood up. "A war is no time to rear a sparkling! This is a military base."

"Wheelie is with us."

"Wheelie has at least gone through his first upgrade!" Prowl began pacing the room. "You don't rear sparklings on military bases. You don't put sparklings in the middle of a war."

Jazz knew he had to counter his mate's shocked processor with calm logic. "Ya once said a war was no place for love and that the second- and third-in-command shouldn't be involved. Are ya sayin' yer sorry ya bonded with me?"

"No!" Prowl sliced both hands through the air in a dismissive gesture. "Although it does worry me sick the thought of my dying and leaving you alone. What if we both died and left the sparkling orphaned?"

"Wheelie's orphaned." Jazz folded his hands in his lap, presenting himself as the figure of rationality. "Do ya think for a moment we all won't make sure he's brought up well? We'll all show him care. He'll never be alone."

"But that doesn't change the fact he lost his creators!" Prowl's logic circuits seemed on the verge of collapse; he stopped and glared at his mate. "You can't tell me you want to bring a sparkling into the universe and run the risk of orphaning it."

Jazz had been expecting Prowl to not handle the surprise well, especially with his emotional subroutines trashed. However, he had a reason to press the point. "Prowler, it doesn't take a war to orphan a sparklin'. Creators get killed all the time in accidents or from strange alien viruses. No one can ever promise anyone anythin'. The future is always uncertain, always open, always impossible to control. We're not promised the next _astrosecond_." He sighed. "But is that a reason to stop livin'? Are we supposed to cower in fear, never invest ourselves in anythin', and just wait for some inevitable catastrophe?" He stood, holding out both arms to Prowl. "If we're gonna say that, what the slag are we fightin' for? Ya can't just fight for the future. Ya have to have somethin' in the present that makes yer life worth livin'!"

Prowl stared at him, his expression going blank. "My answer is no. I refuse to bring a sparkling into this universe in the middle of a war." He turned stiffly and marched out of their quarters.

Jazz dropped his arms and sighed, activating his comm. link. ::First Aid, prepare to receive a patient. Prowler's frozen up again.::

::Acknowledged,:: came the response.

Jazz shook his head and followed his bondmate into the hallway, knowing he'd find him collapsed in stasis lock on the floor. Prowl's logic circuits could only take so much strain.

oOoOo

When Prowl awakened, he was shocked to find Ratchet sitting on his berth's edge, glaring at him.

"Welcome back," Ratchet said. "Now why the slag are you back in my medbay again?"

"Ratchet?" Prowl gathered his scattered emotions before he could lock up again. "Aren't you too weak to be up moving? How long have I been out?"

"Yes. And five orns." Ratchet smirked. "I'm bored out of my slagging mind, though, so I've been using a hover pad to move around and check on patients. First Aid's miffed about it and keeps fussing over me, but I just couldn't lie on that berth anymore."

Prowl processed that information, realized it was logical for Ratchet, then mentally jumped back several sentences. "Five orns! I've been out five orns?"

"Yeah." Ratchet shook his head. "Good news is that your internal repair system has you all spiffy now."

"That _is_ good news." Prowl had the nagging sensation something was wrong, but he settled into his center of calmness. "So you're recovering well? And what about Wheeljack?"

"We're both up and moving, more or less." Ratchet raised an optic ridge. "Aren't you going to ask me what the bad news is?"

Prowl really didn't want to know. "I suppose."

"Jazz is a wreck now." Ratchet frowned. "He's been beating himself up this whole time and blaming himself for your condition. I explained to him a dozen times that your emotional subroutines were programmed in such a way that basically destined you for such a crash, but he won't listen to me. Stubborn glitch."

Prowl cringed. "Well, our last conversation was highly shocking and stressful, but I'm sure you're correct. And I'm hardly angry about it." He stopped and silently quizzed himself, checking to make sure he spoke the truth. However, he found no traces of anger. Sometime during his forced recharge, his processor had moved through all the data and recognized Jazz's reasoning and point of view. "He was making a valid point, even if I didn't agree with him."

"Didn't? Or don't?"

Prowl paused, his processor dragging up fragments of dreams, nightmares, scenarios, simulations — the crowd of images his logic circuits had generated and worked through while he was unconscious. Him dying. Jazz dying. A smiling sparkling with a black helm, white face, and red and blue racing stripes on his black chest. A double funeral. The sparkling crying, alone.

Prowl pushed aside the images and found himself staring at Ratchet's grey face, with its darker grey chevron. "Why did you and Wheeljack decide to try to have a sparkling?"

Ratchet glared at him and crossed his arms. "Well, that's really none of your bus — " He paused and sighed. "Oh, all right. It's a valid question, I suppose." He rubbed his temples with his fingers. "Because we've been putting it off too long. This stupid war could go on forever, and we got tired of waiting. We basically decided 'now or never.'" He dropped his hands and sighed. "And for both of us, it almost turned out to be 'never.' I can't even begin to tell you how much it hurts that we lost our sparkling." He shuddered faintly. "But we'll probably try again as soon as we've both recovered."

More simulations and scenarios surfaced in Prowl's processor: Jazz and he as old as Kup and with no sparkling, watching Ratchet and Wheeljack help their now-adult creation build a protoform for his own sparkling. Jazz and he watching their first sparkling go through his adult upgrades. Jazz and he dying as their ancient systems refused to continue functioning, their hands clasped and their sparks unafraid, knowing the future would be entrusted to their offspring and others like them.

"And if you both die and leave the sparkling orphaned?" Prowl felt cruel asking, but he needed to know.

Ratchet shrugged one shoulder. "If my creators had said that, I wouldn't be here. Being an orphan wasn't easy, I grant you, but the med corps who repaired me fell in love with me and adopted me. I wouldn't be who I am if they hadn't." He sighed again. "In the end, it all turned out as it should have."

Prowl stared at his longtime friend. Since they'd met after they were both adults, he hadn't even known Ratchet had been an orphan. His memory bank assaulted him one last time, presenting images of the deceased Ironhide, Huffer, Brawn, Windcharger, and Optimus Prime. However, contradictory simulations arose as well: Wheelie laughing as a horde of chirping sparklings raced around his legs; Ratchet and Wheeljack designing a protoform; Jazz and he discussing their sparkling's future colors; and Rodimus pretending to be angry at contrite little 'bots after one of many practical jokes.

"I see," Prowl finally replied. And he did see. Even the tragedy of Ratchet's youngling years had ultimately created the best medic Cybertron had ever produced. Prowl realized it wasn't logical for him to assume nothing good could come from having a sparkling, but he still wasn't ready to have one of his own quite yet.

"Good," Ratchet said, glowering at him. "You're fine now, so get the slag out of my medbay."

Prowl nodded and slipped off the berth, standing and flexing. "Thank you," he replied, then headed straight for his quarters. His chronometer told him it was 2200 hours Earth time, so he knew Jazz would be in their room, and he didn't even have to see his bondmate to know how upset he was. Their bond rang with Jazz's self-loathing, and that would not do. He hurried back.

As soon as Prowl entered their quarters, Jazz jumped from the couch but then froze in place, as though uncertain. "Ratchet informed me ya were comin'." His gaze dropped to the floor. "Look, I'm sorry. I shouldn't've pushed — "

"I know you've always wanted a sparkling," Prowl interrupted, walking over to take Jazz's hands in his. "I know how much you love sparlklings and younglings. You latched onto Wheelie almost immediately. And if we weren't fighting a war, I'd be happy to create offspring with you."

Jazz stared down at their clasped hands. "I realize that, Prowler. And it's not like I don't get yer concerns here. But I really, really shouldn't've pushed ya. I guess I just got suddenly sick of havin' our lives be on hold and kinda snapped. I apologize. Will ya forgive me?"

"Yes, love." Prowl pulled him into a hug and relaxed as he felt Jazz's arms encircle his waist. He understood what both Ratchet and Jazz were saying, but he just couldn't justify it all in his mind yet.

oOoOo

Five more orns found Prowl glaring at the command deck. Ever since he'd been put on light duty, he'd been trying to return order to what was undeniably chaos. Rodimus and his hand-picked second-in-command, Ultra Magnus, kept bouncing back and forth between Earth and Cybertron, usually dragging Kup, Arcee, Springer, Blurr, or Wheelie with them. Blaster, who had climbed the ranks until he was fifth in the chain of command, was acting base commander. With Optimus dead, Prowl in critical condition, Jazz unbalanced by their bond, and Wheeljack hovering near death, Blaster had been the next logical choice. Prowl found Blaster to be doing a decent job, and knowing he lacked the charisma and emotional connection with the troops that Optimus and Jazz had, Prowl had a mind to keep Blaster there. He felt his talents were best served where they were: base SIC and head tactician. Granted, he wasn't happy about Ultra Magnus being his position as SIC of the entire army, but he couldn't do anything about it, either. He could, however, suggest to Rodimus that Blaster remain base commander here since neither Wheeljack nor Jazz were interested in the position.

However satisfied he was with Blaster's performance, Prowl was _not_ happy with the constantly shifting duty roster and base personnel. That was going to stop. Prowl glanced around the mechs currently undergoing the shift change and began compiling a mental list. He would request a permanent Earth stationing for himself, Jazz, Ratchet, Wheeljack, Hound, Mirage, Bluestreak, the twins . . .

"Oh sir you're actually here on deck!" Bluestreak ran up to Prowl, all smiles. "I'm so glad to see you here and I was so scared you wouldn't make a full recovery and nothing has been as efficient as it was before and it's just so good to have you back!"

Prowl gave Bluestreak a small smile. Just as Jazz had begun to bond with Wheelie, Prowl had rescued Bluestreak as a youngling and proceeded to bond with him. In a sense, Bluestreak was his sparkling, and Prowl had seen him through his adult upgrade, helped him with his sharpshooting, and kept them stationed together as much as possible.

Prowl's thoughts ground to a sudden halt. His _sparkling_? "Bluestreak," he said, actually allowing himself to broach a subject that had remained unspoken between them. "Do you consider me your adoptive creator?"

Cocking his head to the side, Bluestreak gave him a confused look followed by a beaming smile. "Of course!"

"Are you sorry that I didn't send you off to the neutrals?" Prowl was hit with the sudden irony that he had, in fact, effectively reared a youngling during the war. "Do you think you would have been happier if I'd kept you away from the war?" It was common knowledge that Bluestreak didn't like to fight, even if he was good at it.

Bluestreak shook his head. "I wouldn't change anything. You kept me safe until I learned how to fight, you watched out for me when I returned from basic, and you watch out for me still. And I don't mean in a bad way either I mean in a creator's kind of way because I know that you have total confidence in my abilities and I never felt you didn't." He reached out and squeezed Prowl's arm affectionately. "Besides by staying with you I got to meet the twins and bond to Sunny and given that I can't wish away the war I've got the next best thing."

"Thank you." Prowl returned the squeeze briefly and then watched Bluestreak exit the command deck. Bluestreak's answer was ultimately the same as Ratchet's: the universe was not perfect, but they wouldn't change their younglinghood. Plus Bluestreak clearly believed in Prowl as a creator-figure.

Prowl had much to ponder.

oOoOo

In the quiet solitude of his office, Prowl stared at Hound's mission report. Hound and Mirage had been sent on a joint scout/recon mission to ascertain the whereabouts of the Decepticons. The picture they brought back was clear: Galvatron was MIA, leaving the 'Cons scattered and disorganized. Starscream was dead, and Soundwave had proven incapable of leading the troops. In short, they were a mess.

With a sigh, Prowl set the datapad on his desk. The irony of this new development wasn't lost on him any more than Bluestreak's being his sparkling had been. The Autobots were looking at the most peaceful time they'd yet seen. Cybertron was back under their control, and they were even sending athletes to the Galactic Olympics. This was the calmest their lives had been in nine million stellar cycles, and it was also the moment Jazz had asked him to have a sparkling with him.

"Primus," Prowl muttered. It wasn't that he didn't _want_ sparklings; he'd always imagined himself with two or three. Building his career and climbing the ranks had come before a family, but Jazz and he had been bonded since shortly after arriving on Earth. Comparatively speaking, this was the best time to move forward.

Except, of course, there was no way to know that things would remain this peaceful.

Prowl growled in frustration and signed off on Hound's report. Then he logged himself off-duty and headed back to his quarters. For decaorns now his processor had been turning the issue over and over. Ratchet's story. Bluestreak's story. Plus simple, pure logic: all life resulted in death eventually, but that didn't give him the right to preempt life in the first place. Maybe Jazz was correct. Maybe it was time to move forward and take from life what they wanted, even if the war wasn't officially over.

"Time to _live,_" Prowl whispered to himself, and decision made, he moved into the realm of certainty and conviction. Without hesitation, he opened a compartment in his upper arm and removed the silvery, tubular device that every Cybertronian had been fitted with. Its initial purpose had been to stop asexual budding since the continuous splitting of sparks had produced the Swarm. However, the tube, which Ratchet had nicknamed the "Stupidity Stopper," had a secondary usage: it also regulated the energy flow during spark merging and kept lovers from creating a sparkling. Because of fear a second Swarm would be produced, most creation occurred via the Matrix or Vector Sigma. Sometimes, though . . .

Prowl halted before the quarters he shared with Jazz. The most spiritual form of reproduction came from the fusion of sparks, and although it wasn't the merging of DNA that humans experienced, it still was the highest honor a bonded couple could grant themselves. His decision made, Prowl punched in the door code and entered their quarters.

Jazz was lounging on their couch, listening to music, but when he saw his mate, he dialed down the music and hopped up. "Hey, babe. Did yer shift go okay? Yer not gettin' drained of energy, right?"

"No, I'm quite well." Prowl locked the door behind him and smile his bondmate. "Take it out."

"Huh?" Jazz's visor flashed with his obvious confusion. "Take what out?"

Prowl held up the silvery tube. "Your SMER.'"

Silence reigned as Jazz opened his mouth but failed to activate his vocalizer. Prowl smiled, tossing his tube on the desk as he crossed the room.

"I'm serious," Prowl said quietly, pulling Jazz into his arms. "I've processed what you said and even discussed the concept with Ratchet. If you are serious about this, then I will agree to it."

Jazz trembled faintly in his embrace, and Prowl could sense the swirl of emotions crashing through his mate: joy, disbelief, pride, desire, and relief. Finally, Jazz managed to speak. "Are ya sure, Prowler? Ya were so adamant before."

Prowl released his bondmate and took his arm. "I'm sure," he whispered, triggering Jazz's arm compartment and removing the tube. He tossed it onto the couch. "I will not let myself regret this. If we generate enough excess energy to cause a sparkling to form, then in my mind, Primus isn't against it. If he's not against it, then I'm not either." He pulled Jazz against him again, leaning close and brushing his lips across his mate's. "Now what are you waiting for?" he whispered, letting his tone grow sultry. "Take me already."

Jazz gasped through his intakes and threw his arms around Prowl's waist, hugging him tightly and kissing him. Prowl moaned into the kiss, realizing suddenly that he needed Jazz's touch, his warmth, his comforting presence. The sheer force of life that Jazz generated chased away his lingering grief and reminded him of why he wanted to live, of what it meant _to_ live.

Jazz broke the kiss and spoke with a throaty little growl. "Then yer mine!"

All Prowl had time to process was the sudden rush of passion across their bond, and then he was lying face-first on the floor. "Jazz?" He'd been taken down gently but quickly, and he found himself momentarily disoriented. Then warm hands ran over his doorwings, massaging the expanse of metal and fingering the sensitive tips. Prowl shivered and moaned, realizing what Jazz had in mind. "N-No," he gasped, not in protest of the actions but rather the concept that he wouldn't get to touch Jazz.

Jazz leaned over his shoulder and licked the edge of his chevron. "Yes," he countered, then chuckled, running his fingers down the doorwing's seams, making Prowl writhe against the floor and try to turn onto his back so he could return the pleasure. However, Jazz simply climbed atop him and pinned him to the floor. "No ya don't. I'll be doin' the drivin' tonight." He chuckled again and leaned down to lick the doorwing seams. Prowl moaned loudly, thrashing under him, but Jazz licked over the wingtips, making him collapse to the floor. He thought he'd overload instantly.

As though sensing this, Jazz paused, and Prowl rested his cheek against the cool floor, feeling some of his body's tingling dissipate. He groaned in disappointment, only to gasp again as Jazz licked from his doorwings to his neck, stopping to nibble the sensitive cables there.

"Jazz!" Prowl's systems threatened to overheat with pleasure, and he tried again to shift his bondmate off him. He _needed_ to touch him. However, Jazz had extra martial arts training and easily kept him pinned.

"Ya said to take ya," Jazz teased him, nibbling the back of his neck even as he reached down and wiggled his fingers into the transformation seams at Prowl's hip, stimulating the wiring there.

Prowl moaned, helpless under the onslaught. "Yes, I know."

Jazz chuckled and licked the one doorwing's edge. "Then I'm gonna take ya." He settled against his back, nibbling his neck and running both hands up and under Prowl's doorwings, caressing them, teasing them, dipping into seams and activating sensory nodes. Prowl bucked instinctively, nearly overloading again, and his bondmate paused, shifting his weight. Suddenly Prowl was flipped onto his back, and Jazz's mouth was on his, kissing him as though he could pass his soul through his lips.

Finally free to move, Prowl clutched Jazz tightly, moaning into the kiss as Jazz's hands made their way down his chassis. "Primus!" he gasped against Jazz's lips, quickly moving his own hands, caressing his bondmate's back with one and teasing a sensory horn with another. Jazz moaned into the kiss as well, pushing his horn against Prowl's hand.

Prowl then felt warm fingers on his chest compartment, running the length of transformation seams, teasing him, asking permission to enter.

"Ready?" Jazz whispered, breaking their kiss.

Nodding wordlessly, Prowl triggered the doors over his spark unit and moaned as the cool air rushed over his insides and Jazz's fingers caressed the most intimate part of his body. A _click_ announced the opening of Jazz's chest, and then Prowl felt his spark calling to Jazz's. He gasped, his back arching off the floor, and clutched Jazz's shoulders tightly. "Do it." He needed the fusion, needed the sense of life, _wanted_ to feel Jazz's life-force merged with his own.

Jazz moaned and pulled him tight against him, their open spark cases touching, their sparks seeming to jump towards one another. Then Prowl felt Jazz's consciousness bleeding into his, bolts of super-charged current passing between them, a fusion ten times stronger than any before. They both cried out in pleasure, clinging to each other, and once again Prowl felt the universe seem to bloom within them, galaxies spiraling through their lifeforce, their senses of self suspended between internal stars, and the majesty of creation beating in their chests. As they overloaded together, they yelled so loudly both their vocal processors gave out. Then came the warm, peaceful blackness.

oOoOo

Jazz onlined his optics, checked his chronometer, and realized he and Prowl had both missed their shifts. He groaned faintly, wondering why no worried or angry messages had awakened them, then found a simple "message received" logged in his comm. link banks:

_::Jazz, Prowl: Come in when you're awake so I can scan for a sparkling. Don't even think about reporting for duty. – Ratchet.::_

Jazz chuckled, then realized somewhat belatedly that he was on the berth, not the floor, and his spark casing was closed. He looked at Prowl, who was curled on his side, his arm around Jazz's waist, and saw he was recharging. "Been awake already, huh?" he whispered, not wanting to disturb Prowl's rest.

Prowl shifted slightly and hugged him closer, and through their bond, Jazz could sense his stability and calm. He was, indeed, Prowl again. Apparently Prowl had realized what he'd been fighting for, and Jazz knew he had also. Whether they had created a sparkling or not, they were fighting for a universe where adults and sparklings alike could live in peace, speeding under the sunlight or exploring new planets. A galaxy where stars didn't just go nova and die but always continued to reform into new life.

"I guess in a way we're all made of stardust," Jazz whispered to his bondmate. "I hope we created a sparklin', babe, but either way, we'll protect each other forever."

Prowl stirred. "Mm," he replied, a vague affirmative sound as his consciousness briefly surfaced and then retreated into recharge.

Jazz grinned and pulled him closer, allowing himself to fall back into recharge as well.

* * *

_Postscript: I'm open to reader input here, so drop me a line in your review: Jazz carries/Prowl carries, mech sparkling/femme sparkling, etc._

_Thank you to the following for reviews: narmoture, S. Phantom, PrancingTiger86, cmdrtekk, Yami-Yugi3, and Lady Prime. _

_Edited version, 2010._


	3. Beginning Again

_A/N: Although this is an AU, I will still be incorporating elements of season 3 into it. However, due to the changes I made, I will be altering various aspects of time and place. For example, Jazz will never attend the Galactic Olympics, and the speed with which things take place may be increased or decreased. Some events will be ignored altogether._

_Thank you to everyone for the flood of reviews! I'm completely overwhelmed and definitely inspired to keep going. Given the wide range of requests, I decided to do something a bit different, with brainstorming help from my beta Lady Prime and fellow TF writer S. Phantom. I hope you enjoy!_

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* * *

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oOoOo

_"Every child begins the world again."  
-Henry David Thoreau_

_**Chapter 3: Beginning Again**_

When Jazz and Prowl finally arose for the orn, they reported to medbay as ordered. Jazz grinned at Prowl as they traversed the hallways, having never seen his bondmate so relaxed, and he felt a tingling in his circuits because Prowl was holding his hand. In _public._

"Ya really are in a good mood, aren't ya?" Jazz asked, squeezing Prowl's hand. "Ya didn't care that ya missed yer shift, ya actually slept in, and now yer holding my hand for everyone to see!"

Prowl smiled at him, and Jazz studied the grey face, once again reminded of how handsome his bondmate was, especially when happy. "Well, you must admit that our decision to attempt to spark was monumental and potentially life-altering," Prowl replied. "But, yes, the decision has also left me feeling relaxed and peaceful. Given the usual ways creations are made, I feel honored that you wanted to try this way."

A thrill zinged through Jazz's circuits again, and he realized he felt not only ecstatic but also _nervous._ "Thanks." He turned his stare to floor as they walked, noting that a wave of uncharacteristic shyness had seized him. "I'm real happy ya changed yer mind. It means a lot to me." He paused, frowning as he aired his sudden concern. "But, ya know, these things aren't always successful the first time."

Prowl chuckled. "Is that a complaint? I'd think you'd be happy to repeat the process as many times as necessary."

Jazz laughed, but since they'd reached the medbay, he didn't reply. When the doors parted, they found Ratchet sitting at a makeshift desk just inside the door.

"There you two are!" The medic's greeting sounded like an accusation, but he was smiling faintly. "Let's get on with this." He pushed backwards, and the hover pad he used as a chair moved with him.

Jazz squeezed Prowl's hand more tightly, and they followed Ratchet to a berth. It hurt him to see his friend still using a hover pad to get around, but at least he was alive and back on duty.

"Jazz, you first," Ratchet said, picking up a scanner.

Nearly trembling in a mixture of nervousness and excitement, Jazz sat on the berth. _What if we really did create a sparkling?_ he wondered, half in shock and half in awe. _What if we didn't? Oh, Primus!_ He watched as Ratchet scanned his chest over his spark chamber.

Ratchet shook his head. "No extra energy signature. Sorry, Jazz."

Let down but still nervous, Jazz clenched both his fists. "Thanks, Ratch." He stood and glanced at Prowl, suddenly sick to his tanks. Prowl just smiled at him, and Jazz tried to remind himself that they could keep trying if necessary.

Prowl sat and gazed at the medic almost serenely. "Shall we?"

Ratchet nodded and ran the scanner over his chest. He paused. "Okay, that's possibly a good sign."

Jazz felt air hitch in his intakes.

"Prowl, I need you to open your spark chamber for me so I can do a visual confirmation." Ratchet set down his scanner.

Prowl complied, folding back the metal plating and watching the medic with intense, cerulean optics.

Ratchet gazed inside, and Jazz peeked, too. Beside the steady glow of Prowl's spark hung a tiny ball. A thin stream of energy connected the two sparks together, looking like a miniaturized white dwarf star pulling energy from a blue giant. Jazz gasped and grasped Ratchet's shoulder, squeezing convulsively. At this, Prowl looked down and gasped as well.

"We did it," Prowl said, raising his hand as though he wanted to touch the sparkling, but he rested his hand on his chest plating instead.

Jazz's relief and joy caused any words to choke in his vocalizer. Stepping over to Prowl, he carefully wrapped his arms around his shoulders and embraced him. Prowl hugged his waist with one arm.

"Congratulations," came a strained whisper. "You may close your spark chamber now."

Jazz glanced at Ratchet, concerned by the medic's odd tone, while Prowl closed his chest. The CMO was smiling at them, but coolant stood in his optics. Apparently aware their attention was on him, he turned away and pulled a datapad out of subspace.

"Just let me record some notes," Ratchet said, his voice wavering faintly.

Jazz and Prowl traded glances, their bond transmitting muted happiness over the sparkling and horror over Ratchet's pain. Prowl nodded to Jazz, and he nodded back. Without speaking, Jazz walked up behind Ratchet and squeezed his shoulder.

"We know this is hard for ya," Jazz said quietly.

Ratchet pulled away. "I'm fine," the medic said, the snap back in his voice.

"No, ya ain't," Jazz replied, "and it'd be crazy if ya were. Ya did just lose yer own sparklin', after all. We're not idiots. We know yer gonna be both happy and hurt to see us become genitors."

Ratchet slumped. "I am happy for you, really. I'm happy some life is coming out of all this death! But . . . but it's just not fraggin' — " He clipped off the end of his sentence.

Jazz could have cried for him. He patted Ratchet's back, his spark aching over his friend's loss and pain. An agonizing klik passed, then the medbay doors opened, admitting Wheeljack.

"What's wrong?" He raced to Ratchet's side and knelt by the hover pad, his vocal indicators flashing red as he spoke. "Oh, Primus, Ratch."

Jazz figured Wheeljack had felt his mate's pain through their bond and stepped away to give them room.

"S-Sorry." Ratchet's voice still sounded strained.

"Don't apologize," Wheeljack replied, then glanced at Jazz and Prowl. "I take it this means you two are genitors now."

"Yeah, Prowl's carrying." Jazz frowned to himself, feeling terrible for his friends. In his entire career, he'd never seen Ratchet break down.

Wheeljack was whispering to Ratchet. "We'll try again when we're stronger. We _will not_ give up." His tone betrayed his own pain and desperation.

Ratchet nodded against his shoulder.

"Good. Now go get more rest," Wheeljack said, releasing his mate and giving the hover pad a small nudge. "You're overextending yourself."

"Like you can talk!" A trace of Ratchet's usual gruffness bled through his tone.

"I'll be there in a few kliks." Wheeljack shooed him out of the room, then turned his gaze on Prowl and Jazz. "All right, you two." His tone was unusually clinical and detached, and he gestured for them to sit on the berth. When they were seated, he continued. "We need to schedule periodic checkups for Prowl and monitor the sparkling's progress closely. I suggest you begin discussing what gender you'd like it to be and start designing a protoform. Ratchet and I will both want to go over the specs before construction begins."

Jazz internally cringed at Wheeljack's flat voice and all-business attitude. His strain over his lost sparkling was just as obvious as Ratchet's. "Sure, man."

Prowl shifted uncomfortably beside him, and Jazz could feel that his mate wanted to ask questions.

Wheeljack apparently noticed, too. "What is it, Prowl?" He paused and frowned. "Wait, just how much do you two know about sparkling generation and gestation?"

Jazz and Prowl exchanged embarrassed glances. "We know the 'Stupidity Stopper' is what keeps them from forming by accident," Prowl replied.

"And that the excess energy is usually shunted into one of the partners based on a whole bunch'a confusing technical factors about systems' status and the like," Jazz added, then paused. "I mean, the excess energy created by the surge is what makes the sparklin', if I understand right."

Wheeljack nodded. "That's right. It's why there was no way to predict which one of you would end up carrying, and of course, once a sparkling has formed, you can't spark bond again until it's been separated. A second spark surge could kill it." He grinned wanly. "By the way, there is a .009 percent chance the sparkling could split and create twins."

Jazz and Prowl both stiffened, and for a moment, all Jazz could see were the mischievous, almost evil grins of the Twin Terrors.

"Twins?" Prowl repeated faintly, and Jazz suspected his logic circuits had nearly glitched at the image of Sunstreaker and Sideswipe as sparklings.

Wheeljack managed to chuckle. "The chances are remote." He hesitated, and when he resumed speaking, his tone was clinical and detached again. "The gestation period is only twelve Earth weeks, so like I said, you need to start planning immediately." He focused his gaze on Prowl. "You'll know when the sparkling is ready to be separated because you'll experience sharp pains in your chest as the sparkling cuts the energy stream between you and starts to pull away. As soon as the pains start, report to medbay even if — or, rather, especially if — the pains begin prior to 84 orns."

Prowl simply nodded, his face stoic. However, Jazz felt a pulse of nervousness over their bond.

"Okay, then. Report back in five orns so Ratchet can run a checkup scan." Wheeljack turned and walked toward the door. "Sorry for my abruptness, but Ratchet and I need some time together."

"We understand," Jazz replied softly. "And thanks."

Wheeljack nodded and exited the room. Jazz looked to Prowl, who shuddered faintly.

"Perhaps we should have waited awhile longer before attempting this," Prowl said, frowning at his lap. "It's going to cause Ratchet and Wheeljack so much pain."

Jazz wrapped his arms around him and hugged him tightly. "This isn't somethin' they're gonna get over any time soon. Besides, they're two very determined 'bots. I feel sure they'll keep tryin'."

Prowl returned the embrace. "I know." He sighed through his intakes. "Let's go back to our quarters and celebrate in private."

"Good idea." Jazz released him and stood, holding out his hand. "Despite all this death and pain, we really _do_ have somethin' to celebrate and be happy about."

Smiling, Prowl took his hand and stood. "Indeed, we do."

oOoOo

In their quarters, Prowl leaned against Jazz as they relaxed on the couch. The lights had been dimmed to their nighttime blue glow, and Jazz had put on some soft saxophone music, which graced the room with arching notes underlain by rich guitar chords. As they sipped energon, they each read through datapads filled with information on sparklings.

"These specs are giving me ideas," Prowl said, shifting so his doorwings were more comfortable. When Jazz had suggested they recline on the couch, Prowl had chosen to sit between his legs and lie against him.

Jazz slung one arm over his shoulder and hugged him from behind. "That's good. Since we can't literally pass on our CNA, I'd at least like to design the protoform in a way that combines our best traits." He hit a button on his datapad. "I've been reading all this stuff on gender and sociology." He snorted. "Since our species can't sexually reproduce, I can't figure out why we even have genders. Did Primus do that?"

Prowl ran a search through his memory banks. Ancient Cybertronian history had been mostly lost. "I don't know. I doubt it, though. It doesn't seem logical."

"Does that mean some other species was runnin' experiments on us or somethin'?" Jazz sounded almost disturbed.

Prowl thought over Rodimus Prime's story of meeting the Quintessons. "I suppose that's possible. Rodimus and Kup had some odd things to say about those creatures they met before the battle with Unicron." He glanced at Jazz's datapad. "Well, even if it serves no practical use, we still have to choose a gender."

"I vote for a femme!" Jazz chuckled. "Arcee's probably tired of bein' the only femme on Earth."

Prowl rested his head against Jazz's shoulder. "That's not a good reason to choose a femme." He stopped to imagine a tiny femme running around the base, her laughter echoing through the orangey-gold hallways. "Still, that's an intriguing idea. I'd say I wish we could have twins, and then we could have one of each. But if they share a spark, then that might not work. I really don't know." His memory bank presented him with images of the Twin Terrors and their numerous pranks, and he shuddered. "I take it back. The thought of twins is frightening."

Jazz laughed and kissed his helm. "Okay. So how about a femme with a mostly black paint job like yers but blue and red racing stripes like mine? Plus a red chevron like yers."

"You're already having fun planning, aren't you?" Prowl smiled, turning his head and kissing his bondmate's jaw.

"Yer not?"

Prowl smiled. "Of course I'm excited, but I'm also oddly at peace. I've sent so many mechs to their deaths, the thought of adding a life to the population is actually soothing."

Jazz hugged him more tightly, then shifted them so he could kiss him. "Umm. I'm glad to hear that, babe. Ya torture yerself too much about the decisions ya have to make, so anythin' that eases that is good by me."

Prowl began to respond, but the red alert alarms sprang to life. Both mechs jumped as their comm. links flared on.

::Blaster to Prowl and Jazz.::

::Prowl here.:: He glanced at Jazz with concern. The thought of a battle seemed more ominous than before.

::We've lost contact with Rodimus Prime and Grimlock.::

::Do ya think they were captured while gatherin' intel?:: Jazz asked.

::We're not sure yet,:: Blaster replied.

Prowl shook his head. ::I know Rodimus wanted to investigate that attack on the Galactic Olympics, but —::

::It gets worse,:: Blaster interrupted. ::Blurr and Wheelie were on their way here with Metroplex's new transformation cog but were attacked by Decepticons. I need you on the command deck.::

::We're on our way,:: Prowl said, cutting the connection. He stood, setting down his energon and datapad. "Again, I wonder about our timing. Nothing like trying to plan for a sparkling in the middle of a war."

Jazz frowned. "The Decepticons had been so quiet, though."

"But now our new leader has gone missing, and we have comrades under attack." Prowl headed for the door, and Jazz quickly followed.

"Ya said ya were sure ya wanted a sparklin'." Jazz sounded worried. Hurt.

Prowl smiled at him and squeezed his hand. "I'm not changing my mind. Just wishing the universe were more peaceful. But we agreed that we couldn't put our lives on hold."

Jazz nodded and seemed to relax. "Yer right." He kept holding Prowl's hand as he followed him down the hallway. "Then let's see if we can help quell this latest series of problems."

"Indeed." Prowl frowned, determined to create a galaxy where their sparkling could grow up without fear.

oOoOo

Once Wheelie and Blurr made it to Earth, giving Metroplex his new transformation cog, Jazz underwent one of the most intense battles of his life. Watching Trypticon endanger Autobot City and fight Metroplex held new meaning for him: it wasn't just the current lives that were threatened but also an unseparated one.

With those disturbing thoughts in mind, after the battle Jazz decided to go to the medbay to offer assistance, hoping he could help with the casualties in some small way. Now he stood in the doorway, suppressing a surge of horror at once again seeing wounded mechs and taxed medics. "Tell me how to help," he asked, catching Ratchet's attention.

The CMO frowned. "I thought you'd be in command since Prowl's on light duty."

Jazz shook his head. "Until Rodimus sorts out the command structure, Blaster's still the acting base commander. He and Prowl've got everythin' under control up there, so let me help here."

Ratchet nodded. "Shadow First Aid and get whatever he needs."

"Gotcha." Jazz crossed the room to First Aid, who was working on a squirming Wheelie.

"First Aid doesn't need to waste his time. Wheelie is just fine!" The youngling's frustration was evident despite his lilting, rhyming speech.

First Aid glanced at Jazz. "I heard what Ratchet said, and thank you. I need more sealant. It's in drawer 32."

Jazz retrieved the item immediately, then watched as First Aid attempted to treat the hyper child, who was trying his best to climb off the repair berth.

"Please stay still," First Aid said, inspecting his patient's left leg.

With a half-amused sigh, Jazz gently grabbed Wheelie's shoulders and pinned him to the berth. "Take it easy, kiddo. The sooner ya cooperate with First Aid, the sooner ya can leave."

The orange and yellow child stared at him plaintively. "I'm more worried about Blurr, but I'll stay if you're sure."

Jazz nodded, feeling a strange rush of warmth for the youngling. He already liked the good-natured child, but suddenly he felt an almost parental concern for him. Had learning he was a genitor really caused such a sudden change in him? "I'm sure," he replied, his voice far softer than normal.

First Aid glanced at him but said nothing, choosing instead to finish his work before the youngling became restless again. Wheelie gazed at Jazz intently, almost as though he were sizing him up, and seemed to ignore the medic patching his wounds.

"You seem different today," the child said, "but Wheelie's not sure in what way."

Jazz really couldn't answer that implied question. "Hey, just worried about ya. After all, yer in our collective custody now." He squeezed Wheelie's shoulder. "We're all lookin' out for ya, kiddo."

"Finished," First Aid said, watching the two with an odd expression.

Jazz released Wheelie, who sat up and patted his chest, right over his spark chamber.

"You're still different today," Wheelie said, "but not in a bad way!" He hopped off the table and waved goodbye before running to Blurr's repair berth.

Jazz watched him go and had the sinking feeling that he had a stupid grin on his face.

First Aid stepped to his side and dropped his voice. "Forgive me for prying, but I gathered from something Ratchet said that you and Prowl have become genitors. Somehow, though, I got the idea that Prowl was carrying, not you."

Jazz frowned. "Prowl is carryin'. Why?"

First Aid cocked his head. "You're acting as though your Gestation Protection subroutine has been initialized, but if Prowl's carrying, the only program that will eventually online is your Sparkling Interlink subroutine."

"My what?" Jazz shook his head, not having run across any of that terminology in his reading.

"All 'bots are built with both subroutines buried in their programming in case they should ever choose to become creators or genitors," First Aid replied. "A carrier will experience a program designed to help him or her provide the forming sparkling with optimal protection. Additionally, both genitors, or creators as the case may be, will undergo the implementation of a interlink program that allows them to sense their offspring's condition. In short, you could be on the other side of the galaxy and sense it if your offspring were killed."

Jazz shivered. "What a horrible thought!" He paused, realizing his words could be misconstrued. "I mean, about the death. Not the interlink." He frowned. "Well, couldn't I be feelin' Prowl's, er, Gestation Protection subroutine through our bond?"

First Aid shook his head. "I've never heard of such a thing. And the interlink program won't online until 20 orns into the gestation period."

Glancing across the room, Jazz watched as Wheelie squeezed the hand of one very frustrated Blurr.

"I'm-fine-I-said-I-was-fine-so-why-are-they-still-trying-to-treat-me?" Blurr was asking. "Wheelie-was-the-one-who-got-the-most-injuried-and-my-injuries-are-minor."

"Hush!" Ratchet said as he approached the berth. "Trust me, I _will_ turn off your vocal processor."

"I'm-just-saying-your-energy-is-best-spent-elsewhere." Blurr waved one arm, gesturing at the other wounded mechs in the room. A blue blur followed his movements, the signature effect that gave him his designation.

"Wheelie says to stay still so Ratchet can work," the youngling said, clutching Blurr's hand, "or you'll find there will be more hurt!"

"He's right," Ratchet mumbled.

Jazz realized he was probably grinning stupidly again. He shook his head and glanced at First Aid. "Hey, I dunno. Maybe findin' out I'm a genitor just changed my perspective or somethin'. I ain't exactly complainin', either."

"Maybe." First Aid didn't seem convinced. "If you are getting feedback over the bond, please report it. It's a new development, and we'll want to record it for the sake of future medics."

Jazz nodded. "Sure!" He patted the medic's shoulder, and realizing the medbay had calmed, headed for the door.

Still, as he left he realized his spark felt unusually warm. He put his hand on his chest and grinned. "Maybe it is just the bond at work," he muttered, but he dismissed the puzzle and headed to his quarters. At that moment, he wanted nothing more than to read about sparklings and to do more planning. He and Prowl needed to consider alt forms and root builds and design specs and paint colors and transformation sequences and special abilities and distinctive programs and —

"There's so much to consider!" Jazz gleefully informed the empty hall, then dashed toward his room in a near-run.

oOoOo

Wheeljack leaned in the doorway of the office Ratchet and First Aid were sharing. Behind the desk, Ratchet was sorting datapads, stopping every so often to read or sign off on one. "You're overworking yourself," the engineer said, crossing his arms.

Ratchet didn't glance up. "So many mechs were killed or injured in the first assault and the one today, First Aid has been unable to keep up with the reports. Since I'm functional again and technically still CMO, I should lend a hand."

Hearing his bondmate's clinical, emotionless explanation, Wheeljack felt a sharp pang shoot through his spark and clutched his chest. "Look, Ratch, I've been bonded with you too long, and friends with you longer than that, to not know what you're doing." He shuddered. Through their bond, he could sense their grief like a tangible black fog. "You've always buried yourself in work when upset or grieving, but you know perfectly well that doesn't work. And it especially won't work this time because you still have physical injuries to recover from."

"Don't, 'Jack." Ratchet didn't look up. "Now there's something I need to discuss with you, something about Prowl and Jazz." He tapped a datapad with one finger.

Wheeljack frowned at being shut out, but he was used to his bondmate's grieving style. He knew how to bide his time until Ratchet opened up. "What is it?"

"First Aid reported that earlier today Jazz was manifesting unusual behavior. More specifically, he seemed to be running a Gestation Protection program."

"What?" Wheeljack entered the room, which allowed the door to slide shut behind him. "But Prowl's carrying. What was he doing, specifically?"

Ratchet handed over the datapad. "He was exhibiting a Protection Aura by extending a parental sense of care and concern for Wheelie."

Reading over the datapad containing First Aid's account, Wheeljack shook his head. "Are you sure First Aid didn't read too much into the situation? He has such a deep sense of compassion he's likely to view others' actions in a biased way, and Jazz has always shown interest and concern for all of us. It's his care and charisma that make everyone like him."

Ratchet finally met his mate's gaze and sighed through his intakes. "I know, but I can't dismiss it out of hand, either. Keep an optic on Jazz, would you? If you notice anything, please tell me immediately."

"Do you think it's a new bond phenomenon?" Wheeljack ran various scenarios through his processor, trying to generate explanations. "Or could it just be some kind of aftereffect caused by their first time spark merging without the 'Stupidity Stopper?'"

"I've considered both alternatives." Ratchet picked up an electropen and twirled it between his fingers. "I've requested an uplink with the Cybertronian Medical Library so I can research the possibilities. Now that we have control of Cybertron again, they should be able to tie Teletraan 2 into the ancient records easily."

Wheeljack stared at his mate's pale grey face, noticing the small frown and the way his optics seemed unfocused. He tapped into their bond and felt a current of unease. "What is it? You're searching for something in particular, aren't you?"

In a show of obvious distraction and irritation, Ratchet tapped the end of the electropen against his jaw a few times. "It's just that I could swear that when I was a student at the Medical Academy, I read a report of . . ." With a curse, he pushed away from the desk and stood carefully, leaning against a cabinet. "Maybe I'm just glitched. But the thought hit me, and I felt almost sick with the irony. So I have to know if it's even possible!" He rested his forehead on the cabinet as well.

Wheeljack walked past the desk and wrapped his arms around Ratchet's waist from behind. He had no idea what Ratchet thought was happening, but since his bondmate was radiating pain, he decided not to pursue the topic. "Ratch?"

The medic shuddered faintly. "I'm sick. It's stupid! I, of all mechs, shouldn't be jealous. I should be happy for them. How can I be so petty?"

Wheeljack smiled sadly, relieved Ratchet was at least voicing his thoughts now. "I know. I'd be lying if I said I don't feel envy." He turned Ratchet in his arms and hugged him. "But we're imperfect beings, even when we're functioning at optimal capacity. We're going to hurt and feel jealous when we see others become genitors when we've lost our sparkling."

Ratchet hugged him, burying his face in his shoulder. "You're being so wise and mature about this. Why am I handling it so badly?"

Wheeljack snorted and couldn't decide if he wanted to laugh or cry. "Who says I'm handling it well? You're burying yourself in your work, but I'm just . . . I don't know. Suppressing my emotional subroutines, I guess, almost like Prowl would." As though to spite him, coolant pooled in his optics. "But slaggit, my chest feels so . . . empty now, and I feel like . . ." He tried to stop the tears, but as soon as he voiced the pain, his grief poured out.

Even through the tears, Wheeljack could feel the tsunami of emotions Ratchet had been restraining, using his work like a dam. The dam cracked with each passing klik, and Wheeljack gasped as the wall shattered, releasing the flood of emotions. Ratchet slid down the cabinet, pulling Wheeljack with him, and they sat in the floor, weeping on one another's shoulders.

For the longest time, neither of them said a word, then finally Ratchet spoke up. "It's hard to think about right now," he whispered. "But you're right. We have to try again."

Wheeljack kissed his forehead. "I already promised we would. We won't stop until we succeed."

Ratchet laid his head on Wheeljack's chest and nodded slowly, words no longer necessary as their bond hummed with their love.

* * *

_Postscript: Nope, you're not imagining it, lol: the Spark Merging Energy Regular (SMER), or so-called "Stupidity Stopper," is a device I dreamt up to fill the role of TF birth control._


	4. Momentous Occasions

_A/N: Since this is already AU, I'm changing Carly Witwicky from a housewife to a CalTech professor. It just makes more sense to me. Also, given the intense interaction with the Witwickies, I'm going to give them an honorary officer's status instead of just an honorary Autobot status._

_Blaster is ranked highly here because in G1 Marvel comics, he and Grimlock fight for command of the Autobots after Optimus dies._

_

* * *

_

_"Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide forever to have your heart go walking around outside your body."_  
-Elizabeth Stone

_**Chapter 4: Momentous Occasions**_

Tapping his electropen on the tabletop, Jazz stared at the other officers in the conference room. In his lifetime, he'd patiently sat through thousands of meetings: general assemblies, strategy sessions, Special Ops briefings — the list was endless. However, there were two officers absent from the meeting, and Jazz wanted to be with them, not listening to Rodimus Prime sort out the command structure.

Ratchet, who sat on his left, leaned over and whispered to him. "Calm down. Wheeljack is just reviewing the specs you and Prowl have drawn up. You can join Prowl shortly for his actual checkup."

Jazz nodded, but he was nervous. The specs didn't bother him; it was Prowl's first five-orn checkup that had made him tense. He wanted to know absolutely _everything_ about the sparkling's development.

"I'll be staying on Cybertron," Rodimus was saying. "Ultra Magnus will be serving as my second-in-command and Sky Lynx as my third. First Aid will be instated as the CMO and Kup as the security chief."

All optics shifted to First Aid, who nodded. "I assume that means all the Protectobots will be stationed on Cybertron."

"Indeed." Rodimus smiled. "I need you all there for emergency and law enforcement services. I'll also be stationing the Dinobots on Cybertron and keeping Grimlock, specifically, involved in frontline duties."

A ripple of laughter met this announcement. Carly, who sat on Jazz's right, leaned toward him and whispered, "Yes, they'll cause less damage there."

He traded grins with her. "A little less, anyway." Since the Witwickies had been granted the status of honorary officers, Jazz enjoyed having either of them sit in on meetings, and he specifically loved for Carly to visit when CalTech was on break. She always brought him new music to try and related funny stories about her students.

"As you all know, both Prowl and Jazz have refused to be promoted," Rodimus had continued.

Jazz turned his attention back to his leader, captured more by the mention of his bondmate's name than his own.

"So I've decided, partly based on Prowl's endorsement, that Blaster should be in command of Autobot City." Rodimus paused, but no one voiced an objection. "Prowl will serve as second-in-command and senior tactician here, and Jazz as third and head of Special Ops. Ratchet will remain as the CMO, Wheeljack as chief engineer, and Red Alert as security chief."

Murmurs of agreement met this announcement, and Jazz nodded to himself. Special Ops had always been his home, and he wanted the bulk of his duties to remain in that area.

"If there are no questions, then?" Rodimus paused, and when everyone remained silent, he stood. "Very well. Meeting adjourned."

"Yeah!" Jazz hopped to his feet and looked at Ratchet. "Can we go now? I really want to see how the sparklin' is doin'." He paused as he realized his words had been overheard by the entire room, and everyone began laughing.

"Yes, you impatient youngling," Ratchet said, standing slowly. He winced, then straightened his back carefully. "Slaggin' glitch."

Jazz frowned, and Carly stepped forward. "It can't be repaired?" she asked.

Ratchet waved her off. "Oh, don't worry. My self-repair systems are working on it. First Aid offered to do one more surgery, but it's really unnecessary. Give me another few orns, and I'll be fine." He headed for the door, his gait stiff.

"May I join?" Carly asked, peering at Jazz.

"Sure thing. I'll even give ya a lift." Jazz picked her up and set her on his shoulder, then followed Ratchet toward the medbay.

"I'm still unclear as to how all this works," Carly said, "and trust me when I say Daniel has a lot of questions."

Jazz grinned. "Well, we had a slag of a time understandin' human reproduction when ya became pregnant with Daniel."

She chuckled. "I remember. I also remember many of you thought the whole process was disgusting. And poor Red Alert! I thought he was going to have a spark attack when I went into labor at the _Ark_."

"That's Red all right!" Jazz smiled at the memory. "What do ya want to know? Or maybe I should ask this: What does Daniel need to understand?"

Carly rubbed her chin for a moment. "Well, since Cybertronians are nonsexual or asexual reproducers . . ."

"Yeah?"

"Why do you all talk like you and Prowl made the sparkling together?" Carly's brow wrinkled in obvious confusion.

"Ah." Jazz chuckled. "We have CNA, which is a code that identifies us kinda like yer DNA. But we can't pass CNA on to our offspring. So if we want to have our 'children' contain somethin' of both of us, we purposefully overload our sparks together until one spark gains enough excess energy to split."

"Fascinating!" Carly clapped her hands together. "I would like to write a conference paper on this, if you all don't mind."

Ratchet glanced over his shoulder. "I'll have to clear it with Rodimus, but I don't mind. I can hook you up with the medical computer for your research."

"Thank you." Carly glanced back to Jazz. "So Prowl is carrying a second spark in his chest — a 'sparkling' — and it's actually _gestating_?"

"In a sense." Jazz shrugged faintly, careful not to cause Carly to fall. "The sparklin' gains strength for twelve Earth weeks, and then we can put it into a small body, a protoform."

"Like Wheelie?"

"Yeah, but initially smaller." Jazz grinned. "And Prowl and I are designin' the protoform together, with Ratchet's and Wheeljack's help, of course!" A zing of excitement pulsed through his systems.

Carly patted his shoulder. "Yep, you're definitely excited like a first-time father." She paused and frowned. "Wait, would you use the term 'father?'"

Ratchet paused at the medbay's doors. "The better translation is actually 'genitor,' or if you individually build a creation like we collectively built the Dinobots, you'd be called a 'creator.' But we've been around humans long enough to use human terminology at times." He scratched his helm. "Uh, Carly . . . you know how you experienced mood swings while you were pregnant? And soreness? And backaches and water retention?"

"Yeah." Carly sounded wary.

Ratchet snorted. "The carrying genitor has a Gestation Protection program that gives them various boosts and extra fighting prowess, all things needed to protect the sparkling. But it also causes — "

Prowl's raised voice burst through the closed doors. "What do you mean we can't put in both those programs? We want our sparkling to have pieces of both of us!"

" — irritability, among other things," Ratchet finished, deadpan.

Carly laughed, and the three of them entered medbay, where Wheeljack sat before a computer terminal, staring up at an obviously enraged Prowl. He leaned over the engineer, his fists clenched and optics glowing.

"These two programs would be incompatible," Wheeljack replied quietly, much like a human trying to placate an angry bear. "We can combine other programs from the two of you, though." He glanced toward Ratchet. "Please tell me I wasn't this bad while I was carrying."

"Worse," Ratchet replied, joining them at the computer.

Carly straightened her back. "'Jack was carrying a sparkling?"

Wheeljack flinched visibly, and Ratchet grew tense. "Was," the medic replied. "But keep that to yourself."

Looking between his friends, Prowl's doorwings sagged, and he sighed. "I apologize, Wheeljack. I didn't mean to yell at you." He sat in the chair by the engineer and rubbed one hand over his face.

Wheeljack held up one hand. "It's okay. Hey, we have enough here for me to begin construction on the body. You'll just have to discuss the programming issues with Jazz and come up with a second option."

Prowl nodded. "We'll get back to you by the end of your shift."

"Sounds good." Wheeljack turned back to his terminal.

"All right, then." Adopting his clinical persona, Ratchet gestured toward a berth. "Let's take a look, Prowl."

Prowl nodded, relocated to a berth, and lay down. Jazz, with Carly still sitting atop his shoulder, joined him and squeezed his hand. He could feel the nervous energy humming through their bond and knew they were both jumpy about the first checkup.

"I have to run a scan every five days," Ratchet told Carly, "like the checkups you had while carrying Daniel. We want to make sure the sparkling is developing normally and that there are no problems."

"Makes sense." Carly smiled down at Prowl. "Congratulations, by the way. I hadn't had a chance to tell you that."

"Thank you." Prowl returned the smile, then focused his attention on Ratchet, who ran a scanner over his chest. "Well? Is it healthy?"

Jazz realized he was unable to pull air through his intakes and wondered why it scared him at times. His only theory was that watching Ratchet and Wheeljack grieve over their lost sparkling had made him sensitive on the subject.

Ratchet snorted and patted Prowl's shoulder. "Easy there, Carrier. The scan reveals no abnormalities. Open up and let me do a visual inspection."

Jazz relaxed and wondered why Carly was suddenly chuckling. He leaned forward slightly as Prowl opened his spark chamber, giving both Carly and himself a good view. To his relief, he saw a strongly pulsing sparkling nestled against Prowl's spark with a ribbon of blue energy passing between them.

"It's beautiful!" Carly steadied herself by grabbing Jazz's helm and leaned closer. "Amazing. Simply amazing."

Ratchet nodded. "Isn't it?" He smiled at Prowl, although a trace of melancholy flitted across his features. "Everything seems to be in order. You can close up now."

To his surprise, Jazz suddenly found coolant standing in his optics. The sight of the sparkling had caused waves of emotion to crash through his circuits: pride, joy, awe, and also an overwhelming need to _protect._ "Ratch?" He forced back the tears, embarrassed to be so emotional, and released Prowl's hand. "Is there anythin' more we can do to protect the sparklin'? I mean, other than keep Prowl off the battlefield." He clenched his fists, a strange burning sensation running through his systems. "There has to be somethin' more!"

Ratchet stared at him, and Wheeljack stood and joined his bondmate.

"What?" Jazz felt a snap of anger over having them gawking at him.

"Interference from the bond?" Wheeljack asked Ratchet.

"I got the uplink to the Medical Library Archives yesterday," Ratchet replied, "and I found that case study I was looking for. To me, it definitely looks like a Protection Aura."

"Don't talk 'bout me like I'm not here," Jazz growled.

Prowl sat up and took his hand again, squeezing it. "Jazz?" Concern filtered through their bond.

"Protection Aura?" Carly seemed confused again.

Wheeljack smiled at her. "Oh, um, it's something the carrier gets. The Gestation Protection program causes the carrier to want to protect any sparkling they run across. We call it the Protection Aura."

"Why wouldn't the other genitor have it, too?" she asked.

"It's a subroutine," Ratchet replied, frowning at Jazz. "Only the carrying genitor would get any of the programs activated." He picked up his scanner and ran it over Jazz's head.

"I'm not glitchin'," Jazz said, feeling distinctly irritated. "Can't I just care about my own sparklin'? That's not strange, is it?"

"Not at all." Ratchet sounded distracted. "Although I'd really like to run — "

The medbay doors hissed open, and Rodimus Prime stepped inside. "Sorry to interrupt, but I'm getting ready to depart. Before I go, though, I need to discuss some sensitive material with Jazz." He raised one optic ridge when the saboteur didn't budge. "Of the Special Ops kind."

Jazz sighed and picked up Carly, setting her on Prowl's shoulder instead. "We'll discuss all this later," he informed the room at large, then followed his leader out the door. _Slaggin' inconvenient timing,_ he thought to himself. _And I'm not glitchin'!_

oOoOo

At the end of his shift, Jazz dragged himself back to his quarters, feeling like he'd spent the entire orn in hand-to-hand combat instead of sifting through Special Ops data and reports. He'd been bored senseless and distracted by thoughts of fixing the programming issue for the sparkling, but neither of those things explained his exhaustion. He felt completely _drained._ A nice cube of energon, a hot shower, and Prowl curled up by him . . . yeah, that's all he really wanted at the moment.

Entering the access code for the lock, Jazz stepped inside and halted, gaping at the scene before him. Prowl was sitting on the floor with several dozen datapads flung around him. Some of the datapads were cracked, and it looked suspiciously like he'd _hurled_ them across the room.

"P-Prowler?" Jazz decided he might be glitching after all—in his optics.

"It's all wrong!" Prowl yelled, sounding like a petulant youngling. "The more I analyze it, the more I realize we can't get in all the programs we want. And since this may be the only sparkling we ever have, I want both of us woven through her designs and programs so she'll be visibly and internally a combination of us both."

Jazz paused, collected his scattered wits, then joined his bondmate in the floor, hugging him. "Hey, Prowler. Wheeljack and Ratchet can figure it all out, I'm sure."

Prowl only grew more frustrated. "But I feel so cruel asking them when they lost their sparkling!"

Deep in his processor, Jazz realized the entire odd incident would be amusing if Prowl weren't so genuinely distressed. When Ratchet had warned him that Prowl would be moody, he'd never imagined _this._ Still, Jazz collected his thoughts quickly, afraid Prowl would freeze his logic circuits from the excess emotion. "They're professionals, babe. They'll get through it even though it's tough." He pulled Prowl closer to him, tucking his face into the crook of his neck. "Now kick in yer coolin' systems before ya send yerself into stasis lock."

Prowl nodded faintly, and Jazz rubbed his back, trying to calm him. But as he stroked his back, Jazz accidentally stroked one transformation seam at the hinge of Prowl's left doorwing, and he shivered. A sudden pulse of desire passed across their bond.

"Oooh!" Prowl's doorwings twitched. "Careful. They're very sensitive right now."

Jazz smiled faintly. Under any other circumstances, he'd take shameless advantage of the situation, but Ratchet had warned him that carriers were easily aroused. The charge generated by interfacing fed energy to the growing sparkling, and as a result, the carrier's body became highly responsive, almost demanding extra interfacing. "Sorry, babe. I'm not tryin' to seduce ya. I know yer feelin' upset about all the programmin', so let's talk about it." He shifted so he could hug Prowl without touching his doorwings. Unfortunately, Jazz's arm grazed the right doorwing as he moved, and suddenly he found himself on his back, pinned to the floor.

"Really?" Prowl asked, his voice nearly a purr. He climbed atop him and kept his hands on Jazz's shoulders, holding him down. "Then why do you keep touching me that way?"

Jazz opened his mouth, ready to protest, but a burn streaked through his circuits. The mere _feel_ of Prowl's weight on him, the sight of the lust in his optics, the heat radiating from his body . . . "Oh, Primus." He squirmed, trying to free himself as an unusually powerful wave of desire bloomed across his neural net.

Shivering at the movement, Prowl grabbed Jazz's wrists and pinned them to the floor by his head, then leaned down and kissed him, exploring his mouth thoroughly. Jazz moaned and arched upward, his circuits scrambled by his sudden, intense need. _Prowl's passion through the bond?_ he wondered faintly, but his thoughts blurred as Prowl dipped down and nipped his neck.

"I'm going to tease you senseless," Prowl murmured against his throat, and Jazz gasped, a bolt of desire lancing his tanks.

"I love it when ya talk naughty," he managed to reply, although his voice was thready.

Prowl chuckled against his throat as his kissed downward. "Hmmm. In that case, I think I'll get out the magnetic cuffs, truss you up, and tease you until your vocalizer shorts out."

Moaning loudly, all Jazz could do at first was nod. His processor was already presenting him with images of what Prowl could plot and execute when properly motivated. His previous exhaustion was swept away in his desire to be thoroughly ravished by his bondmate. He grinned. "Ya just love playin' the powerful enforcer, don't ya?"

"Definitely." Prowl's grin was predatory as he pulled a pair of cuffs from his subspace.

oOoOo

Ratchet crossed his arms over his boxy chest and stared with half-shuttered optics at Jazz and Prowl. "And why am I seeing you both first thing this morning? Especially with dings, dents, and _half your slagging paint scratched onto each other?_"

Laughing nervously, Jazz gave the CMO a conciliatory smile, but Prowl stared at the floor, his doorwings stiff with obvious mortification. "Uh, well," Jazz began, internally cringing at Ratchet's glare, "it was an accident. Prowl was upset, and I thought I'd rub his back, but — "

Ratchet held up one hand. "Don't tell me. I really don't want to know."

Prowl made a choked noise, and Jazz could feel his embarrassment through their bond. Ratchet tilted his head to the side, the mannerism typical of one talking through a bond, then locked his gaze on them.

"Wheeljack's on his way." Ratchet pointed at two berths. "Get your afts up there so I can start work."

"As you wish," Prowl said, his tone abnormally meek. He lay down on the nearest booth and stared pointedly at the ceiling.

Jazz sat on the adjoining berth. "Work on Prowler first, please."

Picking up his scanner, Ratchet nodded and checked the sparkling. "Well, at least you two didn't get so wild that the sparkling was damaged."

A moment of deadly silence filled the medbay, then they shrieked in one voice, almost as one mech: _"We could harm it?"_

Ratchet slapped his own forehead. "And 'bots ask me why I call the SMER the 'Stupidity Stopper.'"

The medbay doors hissed open, admitting Wheeljack. He glanced over his friends and laughed. "Well, I see the amazing mood swings are at maximum capacity now."

"Don't encourage them," Ratchet mumbled, picking up his tools and starting on Prowl's dents.

Wheeljack simply chuckled as he joined Jazz. "Yeah. I remember that part." Pain suddenly flashed across his optics, but he shook his head. "Lie down, would you?"

Jazz nodded, suppressing a frown. He hoped with all his spark that his friends would be able to generate another sparkling. "Sure thing." He reclined on the berth, folding his arms behind his head, and suffered silently as Wheeljack began banging out the dents and dings on his chassis.

"You two better be careful." Wheeljack's vocal indicators flashed a pale red as he spoke. "Get too rough and you can jar the sparkling, causing it to extinguish."

Jazz felt a pulse of terror, and he wasn't sure if it was his, Prowl's, or both of theirs. "We'll be careful."

"Good," Ratchet said, not looking up from his work on Prowl. "Because if you two extinguish your sparkling out of sheer stupidity, I'll disassemble you and use you for spare parts."

Feeling hurt by Ratchet's unusually cold tone, Jazz stared at him. "That's cruel, man."

Wheeljack set down his tools. "Ratch . . ." He didn't sound either accusatory or angered, only sad.

"Sorry," Ratchet said, glancing at them. Prowl had grown unnaturally still under the medic's hands. "I just — "

To his shock, Jazz felt coolant pool in his optics for the second time in two orns. He couldn't understand why he'd been so emotional lately; usually others' words and moods just flowed past him like rushing wind. "I know that!" he interrupted, sitting up. "But it's not like we'd purposely try to harm our sparklin'. Slaggit, we've been servin' together for millions of stellar cycles. Ya know us better than that, and given how much guts it took us to even try this, somethin' ya should understand well, I'd think ya could drop the Hatchet act for awhile!"

All three mechs stared at him in apparent surprise, and Jazz felt caught somewhere between guilt and anger as the coolant escaped his optics and raced down his cheeks. From Wheeljack's gasp, he knew when his tears appeared below his visor.

Ratchet set down his tools. "I know, I know. I'm not trying to be a total fragger, I just . . . I don't know!"

Sitting up, Prowl looked back and forth between the two distressed mechs, then hopped off the table and hugged Jazz. "Shhh." He kissed his helm. "We're all edgy right now."

Wheeljack squeezed Ratchet's arm. "Hey, now, we're all hurting in different ways, and we're all grieving lost comrades. Let's try to gather our wits here, okay?"

"I'm sorry." Jazz buried his face in Prowl's neck. "Sorry, Ratch. I can't quite explain why I'm so — " A sharp pain shot through his spark chamber, and he gasped. Jerking away from Prowl, he put his hand on his chest. "What was that?"

With a look of alarm, Ratchet rushed to Jazz's side. "I knew it. I knew it! I reread that case study in minute detail last night, and it just seemed to make sense." He snatched his scanner off the berth. "Lower your hand. I've got a theory."

Jazz did as instructed, feeling utterly puzzled. "W-Wha . . .?"

Ratchet ran the instrument over his spark chamber and grew suddenly still. "Primus! What were the odds?" The scanner slipped from his hand, almost as though his fingers had frozen, and bounced across the floor.

Jazz jumped at the metal clang, a wave of trepidation whisking through his circuits.

"Odds of what?" Prowl asked, his doorwings trembling in obvious worry.

"Ratch?" Wheeljack stepped up beside his mate and tilted his head in curiosity.

Ratchet slowly pulled air through his intakes. "Okay. We can handle this." He pinned his stare on Jazz. "Open your spark chamber. I need a visual confirmation."

"Visual confirmation?" Prowl asked with obvious confusion.

Wheeljack reached out and squeezed Ratchet's arm. "You can't be serious!" His vocal indicators flashed bright red as he spoke.

However, Jazz said nothing. For a moment, he felt surreal again, like he had when Prowl had been in ICU. He felt as though he were watching himself from outside his body as he opened his chest and slid back the chamber panels.

"Holy Primus," Wheeljack whispered, staring at the revealed spark.

Ratchet's expression grew unreadable. "Like I said, I knew it."

"Knew what?" Prowl peeked inside Jazz's spark chamber and gasped. "It's a — It's a —" He shuddered faintly, and Ratchet stepped forward in the matter-of-fact way of a medic long used to glitches. Sure enough, Prowl's optics offlined as he fell straight into stasis lock. Ratchet caught him and pulled him back onto his berth.

Worried about Prowl but also wanting to understand the commotion, Jazz glanced down and stared at the tiny ball nestled against his spark, a ribbon of energy passing between them. Once again, he felt like he was watching a white dwarf star share matter with a blue giant. "I don't understand," he stated flatly.

"It's rare." Ratchet leaned forward to visually examine the sparkling. "But sometimes a spark merging can spawn two sparklings at once. You've been acting like a carrier for orns, but the sparkling should have shown up on my scanner immediately. I wondered if maybe it was a new bond phenomenon instead. However, when I finally found that article on dual carriers, I got suspicious. I was actually going to call you in this morning, but you showed up before I had the chance."

Jazz's processor felt like it might freeze as surely as Prowl's had. "I — We both . . .?" He frowned, the words sinking in. "Wait. Ya said it should have shown up immediately?"

"I'm guessing your obvious multiple interfaces last night gave it the energy it needed to be detectable by a scan," Ratchet replied, deadpan. He straightened, his optics dimming. "But Jazz, it's not a good sign that it didn't show up immediately. This sparkling is weak. We'll have to give you daily checkups, put you on a special energon formula, and possibly put you on berth rest. If not, you may lose it."

"Lose it?" Jazz's memory banks presented him with an endless series of images: Optimus Prime's body, Ironhide's casket, Prowl in stasis lock, Ratchet in ICU, and Wheeljack grieving, his hand pressed to his chest.

"We'll do everything possible," Ratchet said quietly. "We certainly won't give up without a fight."

But Jazz couldn't shake the final image: the horror of a carrier who'd lost a sparkling. "Oh, Primus!" Shuddering, he felt one system shut down. Then another. Then another. An alert message flashed in his processor, warning him of imminent stasis lock, and suddenly he understood Prowl's glitch intimately.

The last thing his optics registered was Wheeljack and Ratchet both jumping forward to catch him as he offlined.

oOoOo

Wheeljack leaned against Ratchet's office doorframe, staring over his shoulder at the medbay. Prowl and Jazz were both recharging, neither of them having regained consciousness. He and Ratchet had spent several joors running systems checks on Jazz, attaching energon feeds to him, and boosting the sparkling with small volts of energy to stabilize it. For the time being, all seemed well, and Ratchet had retreated to his office, where he made notes on a datapad without bothering to turn on the lights. Night had fallen upon the Earth, and Autobot City had dimmed all lights in the non-essential areas. Even the medbay glowed soft blue for the patients' sakes, although the lights would kick on at full capacity at any sign of emergency.

"He's stable," Ratchet muttered. "You can stop fretting."

Glancing at his bondmate, Wheeljack shook his head. "I'm not worried right now, but I can't help feeling empathy for Jazz's terror."

A grunt met this announcement. "That's normal."

Wheeljack sighed. "You're doing it again: burying yourself in work to avoid your pain. You can't keep pretending that you're all healed up and that finding out Prowl and Jazz are having twins isn't eating you up inside." He tapped his chest. "First of all, I can _feel_ you're not okay. And second, you almost took off Jazz's head earlier."

Not looking up from his datapad, Ratchet shrugged. "Sure. It hurts. It hurts even more that we've tried to spark merge and keep failing to generate enough energy to even overload, much less create a sparkling."

Irked, Wheeljack stepped inside the office and slapped the door controls, coming as close as he could to slamming a hydraulic door. "Don't be so flippant! We made a promise to each other." He walked up and snatched the datapad from his mate's hands.

Ratchet finally looked up. "I know. But what are we supposed to do? Spark merge every night until we succeed?" He snorted. "That seems terribly clinical to me, and I hardly want to turn spark merging into some kind of duty."

Wheeljack flinched. He felt so determined to succeed that he was willing to try most anything, and his mate's words stung. "No, I don't want it to be a duty, but we swore we'd keep trying."

"I know." Ratchet tossed his electropen onto his desk. "That doesn't make us sparkling factories, though."

"I hardly meant to imply it should." Wheeljack tensed, feeling his mate's anger burn across their bond.

Ratchet crossed his arms over his chest. "Well, it certainly feels like we've fallen into some clockwork routine. Slaggit, you even insisted that we try twice last night, and you didn't seem to even care that I was tired."

"What? Of course I care if you're tired! But you didn't say no." Hurt and angered by Ratchet's uncharacteristically bitter behavior, Wheeljack leaned over the desk and slammed one fist on the surface. "Stop acting this way!"

Glaring, Ratchet leaned forward in his chair. "Stop acting what way? I'm still not completely healed, remember? In case you don't realize it, it takes a lot out of me to spark merge, so forgive me if I get irritated from the energy drain."

Horrified by the implied accusation, Wheeljack lost his temper and slapped him upside the head with the datapad, cracking it. "Quit treating me like your enemy! I'm hurt, too, you know."

Although Wheeljack hadn't hit him particularly hard, Ratchet's head jerked sideways. For a moment, stunned silence hung in the room, then Wheeljack felt nauseated. He wasn't one to start fights to begin with, and he'd certainly never hit Ratchet. "I'm so sorry!" He whirled around, took two quick steps toward the door, then fell to his knees as his emotions nearly exploded in his chest. Joors of angry quips from Ratchet, the fear that Jazz would lose his sparkling, and the rush to stabilize both carriers all crushed him.

After a few kliks, a gentle hand stroked his back, soothing him. He choked on something like a sob but fought the tears away. A second gentle hand joined the first, caressing his winglets and easing the tension from them. Then warm lips kissed the back of his neck, causing him to shiver. He groaned faintly, caught between lingering anger and appreciation, and the warm lips kissed a slow line down his back.

"No, I'm sorry," Ratchet whispered against his plating. "You're in even more pain than I am, and yet you're still handling it better. And I had no right to speak to you that way." He leaned his forehead against his back. "But I keep imaging the same scene in my processor over and over: you being shot and the sparkling . . . extinguishing."

Wheeljack shuddered, not wanting to be reminded.

Ratchet wrapped his arms around Wheeljack's waist and hugged him. "I've seen so many burn marks inside of spark chambers and even had a sparkling die on me during surgery. I can picture it with _sickening_ clarity. And I want to kill every Decepticon alive or lash out at anyone who laughs or smiles. It just seems so _wrong_ that anyone could be happy when we not only lost so many friends but also our sparkling."

Understanding the feelings all too well, Wheeljack straightened and glanced over his shoulder. "You don't think I'm bitter?" All his anger dissipated, leaving him feeling hollow. "For an astrosecond, when you told Jazz he might lose the sparkling, I actually thought, 'If I have to suffer like this, someone else should, too!' It was the blackest, most evil thought I've ever had. I felt tainted to even have it cross my processor, almost as though some Decepticon virus had attacked me." He sighed, sagging against Ratchet. "But you know neither of us could recharge ever again if either Prowl or Jazz lost his sparkling."

"I know." Ratchet shifted, pulling them backwards until the medic leaned against his desk. Ratchet hugged his bondmate to his chest, and Wheeljack accepted the gesture, reclining in his arms and staring up at the ceiling.

"So what do we do?" Wheeljack put one hand over his spark chamber, feeling at a loss. "Take out our pain on each other? Get jealous of every couple who decides to become genitors or creators? Lash out at the whole universe?"

Ratchet kissed one of Wheeljack's vocal indicators, exhaling softly against it and making him involuntarily shiver. "No. I've fought the internal war against bitterness from the moment I lost my first patient. I remember that orn well, too, even after all this time. I put my fist straight through a steel-plated wall." He reached down and took Wheeljack's hand, squeezing it. "But I realized my anger served no purpose. It sickened me that the war continued to kill 'bots every orn, and no one seemed to even care except to gather statistics. The violence was meaningless, caused by the madness of a megalomaniac. I wanted to curse Primus even though I knew the source of the evil and pain came from Megatron's wild ambitions. For a while, I considered quitting."

Wheeljack turned his head, retracted his mask, and kissed his bondmate's jaw. "But you didn't. You became the best medic we've ever had."

"No, I didn't quit." Ratchet let his head fall back against the desk with a _clang_. "But I had to ask myself some serious questions: Will my pain, bitterness, and rage make a difference? After all, if I don't like the way things are, whining about isn't going to change anything. Those same 'bots would've died if I hadn't been there. In fact, more lives would have been lost. So what? Was I supposed to declare Cybertron a slagheap and just shut myself up in my quarters and yell at anyone who tried to break through my childish temper tantrum?"

"No." Wheeljack shook his head faintly, thinking over all the friends he'd lost and what they'd fought for. "All of us who joined the cause, even those like Mirage and Bluestreak, who hate fighting, still wanted to change the world. Just giving up wouldn't achieve that."

"True. But so many died," Ratchet whispered. "So many. Sometimes all I've done is been there to see them on their way. But I was there to _care_ that they lived and died. Now that I'm older, I don't let them haunt me when I recharge, but I don't forget them, either. I won't pretend like it didn't happen."

Wheeljack smiled at the ceiling, noting that only a single ray of light filtered through the office window to alleviate the darkness. "You care until it twists your circuits into knots."

Ratchet hugged him more tightly. "But you wouldn't ever let me leave my shift by myself. You followed me around, nagged me, hauled my over-energized aft back to my quarters, chewed me out, patted my back, and loved me. You cared that I cared."

"I still do." Wheeljack rested his forehead against Ratchet's jaw. He could sense serenity weaving through and supplanting his mate's pain.

"I think that's why I can get up in the morning." Ratchet sighed. "The universe continues with or without me — not because I'm insignificant or don't make a difference but because life continues even in the face of death. That's what I finally realized and accepted."

"You may have to re-accept it," Wheeljack murmured. "We both may have to. But I don't think either of us can do it alone, and I don't want to do it alone. We've been friends and bondmates for millions of stellar cycles."

Ratchet kissed his nose, which was still exposed from his having retracted his blast mask. "In that case, let's go to our quarters. To overcome something together, we have to be together, and Hoist has promised to watch Prowl and Jazz all night."

Wheeljack smiled. "There's the Ratchet I know." He climbed to his feet and offered his bondmate his hand. "Yeah. Let's just spend some quality time together and not push for anything."

Accepting the offered hand, Ratchet stood as well and brushed his fingers across Wheeljack's cheek. "And this is why I love you."

Still smiling, Wheeljack raised the hand he held to his lips and kissed it, and without another word, led Ratchet from the room.

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_Postscript: I'd like to thank the following people for their wonderful reviews: Dvana, Randomstrike, Narmoture, IndependentC, PrancingTiger86, Enigma101, Kick-Aft, Hecate-19, and Elita One._


	5. Finding Peace

_**A/N: Warning — rated M for a reason.**_

_On names: for the most part, I'm keeping to the typical style of TF name. However, if you read G1 Marvel issue 1, you'll see that 'Bee says his codename is Bumblebee. This suggests to me that his Cybertronian name is something else entirely, probably unpronounceable to humans. I've used that concept a bit here, too._

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 4! Love you guys!_

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_"You cannot find peace by avoiding life."_  
-Virginia Woolf

_**Chapter 5: Finding Peace**_

When Jazz awakened, he stared at the blurry tiles in the ceiling and wondered where he was. His quarters weren't the orangey-gold used in most of the base, and nothing he owned made rhythmic beeping sounds. Wait . . .

"Medbay?" He realized his voice sounded slurred. Why was he in medbay? _Oh!_ he thought, his memory returning. _I'm carrying a sparkling, but it's weak._ Worry rushed through his circuits. _And Ratchet was afraid I would lose it, Prowl fell into stasis lock, and — _

Jazz tried to sit up, suddenly terrified for his bondmate and both their sparklings. However, a strong, red hand pushed him back onto his berth, and then Ratchet leaned over him.

"Oh, no you don't." Ratchet frowned. "I just spent nine orns stabilizing your sparkling. I'm not letting you just jump off this berth and run away."

"I was out nine orns?" Jazz glanced around frantically, relaxing only when he saw Prowl on the berth next to his. "Is Prowler okay?"

Ratchet patted his shoulder. "Both Prowl and his sparkling are fine. We put him into stasis lock on purpose because he kept freezing up his processor worrying about you and your sparkling."

Jazz turned back to the medic and stared at the light grey face with its darker grey chevron. Ratchet was gazing at him with concern, and he felt bad for yelling at him before. "Ya said that ya stabilized my sparklin'?"

"For now." Ratchet tapped his chest. "You can return to light duty, but you're banned from combat of any kind and from taking any missions. You're only two Earth weeks into your gestation period, so I can't be sure, but you may very well have to spend the last four weeks on bed rest."

Jazz shuddered. "Primus, I hope not!" He couldn't imagine anything more boring. Then again, he'd do anything to keep his sparkling safe.

"I'm restricting you to a diet of rather rich energon," Ratchet continued, "and I want to see your aft in here first thing every morning. Blaster has rearranged the schedules, so you're on second shift now. That means you'll have plenty of time each morning for me to run a full scan."

"Ya got it." Jazz wasn't about to question the CMO's restrictions or directions. The mere thought of endangering his sparkling sent shivers through his armor plating.

"Good." Ratchet walked over to Prowl's berth. "I'll bring Prowl around now. Seeing you awake should be sufficient to keep him calm."

Jazz sat up slowly, taking his time, but he made sure he was standing at Prowl's side when his optics onlined. "Hey, babe. Ya okay?"

"Jazz!" With a faint smile, Prowl took his hand and squeezed it. "Primus, I've been so worried. Are you all right? You should have seen how hard Ratchet and Wheeljack have been working to stabilize the sparkling."

"I believe ya." Jazz grinned at Ratchet. "Ya really are the best, ya know."

Ratchet waved him off. "Don't you start in on that. I'm just doing my job." He walked away, apparently trying to escape any 'thank yous.'

"That's our CMO." Jazz laughed, then helped Prowl sit up. "Ratchet says I lost nine orns while they worked, but I feel fine now." He paused, considering the sudden wave of hunger burning in his tank. "Okay. Fine but under-energized. Let's hit the rec room, grab some energon, and start talking specs! We have two protoforms to discuss now."

Prowl shook his head. "You're incorrigible. You're right, though. We need to work quickly so Wheeljack and Ratchet will have plenty of time for building." He slid off the repair booth and carefully stretched his joints.

"Excellent!" Jazz grabbed his hand and pulled him from the medbay, his enthusiasm and hunger outweighing Prowl's objections about decorum.

oOoOo

Jazz lay on his stomach on his cabin floor, his elbows propping him up as he considered all the datapads spread before him. "This is a lot of information." He grabbed his third energon cube, a deep purple concoction that had been distributed when he'd keyed his code into the energon dispenser, and took a swing of the rich liquid. It tasted extra sweet, like the flavor he imagined human candy would have, but it was thick and nearly grainy.

"I know," Prowl replied. He lay on his stomach beside his bondmate, twitching his doorwings randomly as he picked up and scanned various pads. "But I vote that we make my sparkling a femme and specialize her programming and abilities for espionage. I want her to wear a visor like yours, too."

"It has real benefits," Jazz agreed. "But I want 'er to be like ya — more black than white."

"Very well. But she'll need sensory horns like yours if we want her to be top notch, and I insist that she has blue and red racing stripes like you."

Jazz grinned and leaned over to brush his lips against Prowl's cheek. "Who would'a thought ya were so sweet?"

Prowl turned his head and met his lips, kissing him back. "Only you." He returned his attention to the datapads. "Given the programming she'll be receiving, it only makes sense to make her Earth alt form a Porsche 911 GT2."

"Ohhh! Stylish and fast." Jazz chuckled as he prepared to launch his plan. "Well, in that case we need to choose somethin' from the modern car lines based on yer alt form."

With a small smile, Prowl shook his head. "I appreciate the gesture, but humans no longer make Datsuns."

"I knew ya'd say that." Jazz picked up a datapad and brought up his research. "Nissan Motors is the successor to DAT Motocars, who made the Datsuns. So I suggest a Nissan 370Z as my sparkling's alt mode. And I want 'im to have a red chevron like yers."

Prowl scooted closer and wrapped his arm around Jazz's shoulders. "Somehow I'm not surprised you thought that up. Okay, but he has to be more white than black like you."

Jazz leaned in to the embrace. "If that's what ya want. But I want 'im to be a police vehicle, complete with doorwings like yers. And I think he should be programmed to excel in tactical thinkin' and battle strategy."

"In other words, you want him to be a tactician like me." Prowl nuzzled one of Jazz's sensory horns, making him shiver. "Sounds like a fair trade."

Jazz grinned and rolled onto his back, pulling Prowl on top of him. "While I was researchin' the Nissans, I ended up looking through some stuff on Japan, and — "

"You mean you stopped to check out the newest in Japanese pop music," Prowl interrupted, running his hand over Jazz's chest.

Jazz grinned. "Of course! Anyway, this one singer's name was Kimi, and I liked the sound of it. When I searched the internet, I found out it means 'without equal' or 'peerless.' So how does that strike ya as a femme's name?"

"Kimi?" Prowl paused, running one fingertip over Jazz's cheek and then leaning down to kiss him. "Reminds me of the Cybertronian name Kimi'mill'ami. I had a friend named that back in the Golden Age, although her codename was Highjump." He kissed Jazz again, lingering for a moment, letting their lips brush together. "I think Kimi will work."

"Excellent!" Jazz shivered faintly, realizing his body really was extra sensitive. Ratchet's warnings about the sudden and overwhelming need to interface flashed through his processor. "Ya keep doin' that, though, and we won't be talkin' about sparklings for the next joor or two."

Prowl chuckled and ran his fingers down Jazz's neck lightly. "I see. Well, in that case I have one more suggestion."

Jazz tilted his head, giving Prowl more access to his neck. "What's that?"

"Let's name your sparkling Silverstreak, in honor of Bluestreak." Prowl caressed the exposed neck, leaning closer. "We did act as surrogate creators for him, after all, and I know it'd make him incredibly happy."

"That's a great idea!" Jazz smiled at his bondmate, loving the way his mind worked. "We should tell him as soon as possible."

"But not quite right now," Prowl murmured, brushing his lips across Jazz's neck. "I have something else in mind for the moment."

Jazz moaned, his entire body tingling. "Yeah, definitely not right now, ya tease!"

"Oh, I've only started," Prowl said, nibbling Jazz's neck and running his hand down his chassis. "That much I promise."

oOoOo

The following afternoon, Jazz smiled at Prowl as he entered the command center and settled into the chair beside him. "It's nice of Blaster to let us work side-by-side for now." He entered his command code into the computer terminal, logging himself in. "Not that I love comm. duty, especially when ya won't let me listen to music."

A self-depreciating smile graced Prowl's grey face. "I suspect we're manning the command center together only because no one else can put up with our mood swings." He motioned to the surveillance monitors. "After all, there's far better ways to use my talents than staring at screens."

Jazz laughed. "Yer probably right. But, hey, Ratchet also said it had to be ultra light duty, and nothing's more boring — er, I mean easier — for a 'bot than sitting on his aft for endless joors."

Prowl shook his head. "I can't really complain. A dull shift means peace and security, after all."

"Yeah. Cybertron's gettin' most of the 'Con action for now." Jazz leaned back in his chair and propped his feet on the panel.

Prowl smacked his arm. "Put your feet down! Boring or not, you're still on duty."

Jazz grinned, a particularly saucy reply coming to mind, only to be interrupted from the doorway.

"I know you're on duty now but I just got off duty and I wanted to see how you're both doing." Bluestreak hovered just inside the room, his doorwings twitching nervously.

"Hey, Blue!" Jazz hopped to his feet. "We've been wantin' to talk to ya. Come on in."

Bluestreak gave him a tentative smile and joined him at the comm. terminal. "You've been wanting to talk to me?"

Jazz slung one arm around his shoulders. "Yeah. Prowl and I have somethin' important to tell ya."

Prowl glanced at them with a smile. "I'll let you do the honors, Jazz."

"Honors?" Bluestreak looked between them. "Important?"

"Yep!" Jazz could hardly contain his excitement. "We've decided to make one sparklin' a mech and one a femme, and we're gonna name the mech after ya: Silverstreak."

Bluestreak stared at him, apparently momentarily frozen in shock, then threw his arms around his waist and hugged him. "Thank you! That's wonderful and I can't believe you want to name your sparkling after me and that means so much to me! I really always did think of you two as surrogate creators and I hope you don't mind that and this really, really — " He paused, his voice wavering.

Jazz hugged him tightly and kissed the top of his helm. "Of course we don't mind. We kinda did adopt ya. Slag, Prowl adopted ya even before I did." Suddenly, he felt the urge to tear up along with Bluestreak, but the abrupt mood swing amused him at the same time, leaving him to simply smile.

Apparently equally affected by Bluestreak's joy, Prowl stood and joined them. "You know I had my optics on you from the beginning, Bluestreak. Learning you were the only survivor of the attack on Praxus was enough to make me take an interest in you, and I did actually meet your genitors once. After awhile it seemed only natural to 'adopt' you."

Bluestreak nodded against Jazz's shoulder but seemed unable to speak still. Jazz traded a glance with his bondmate and nodded, then Prowl stepped forward and hugged Bluestreak from behind.

"Group hug," Jazz teased lightly.

Although he tensed at first — Jazz knew the young gunner wasn't used to having Prowl show physical affection — Bluestreak relaxed and buried his face in his neck. Prowl leaned forward and rested his face against Bluestreak's helm.

"You'll help us look after the sparklings, won't you?" Prowl asked quietly. "With two of them on our hands, we'll definitely need the help of their 'older brother.'"

Bluestreak laughed, although it sounded like a half-sob. "O-of course! I'd be really honored to look after them and help in any way. It's weird though thinking about there being two sets of twins on the base and you should have seen the looks on Sides' and Sunny's faces when they learned you two are having twins! It was price — "

Teletraan II's automatic alert suddenly blared to life, causing all three mechs to jump.

"What?" Jazz asked, releasing Bluestreak.

Prowl returned to his post. "There's nothing showing on the monitors yet, but odd seismic activity is being recorded."

"An earthquake?" Jazz asked, taking his seat as the board lit with incoming signals. He hit the priority comm. link.

::Report!:: Blaster's voice came through instantly.

"Possible earthquake," Jazz replied. "Checkin' now."

"Not an earthquake!" Prowl pointed to the monitor on the far right. "It's Trypticon."

::Trypticon!:: Blaster sounded as shocked as Jazz felt. ::But Metroplex defeated him and tossed him into the ocean.::

"Down but not out," Jazz said, frowning at the image of the hulking T-Rex-shaped citybot.

"And headed right at us," Prowl added.

::Order everyone to battle stations and alert Metroplex at once. Blaster out.::

Jazz hit the main comm., suddenly more tense than he'd ever felt when facing a battle. ::Red alert! All personnel to battle stations. Trypticon sighted — :: He paused to check Prowl's monitor. :: — two Earth miles out and closing. Attack imminent.::

Prowl had activated his personal comm. link. ::Prowl to Metroplex. Trypticon approaching from due east. Transform and prepare for battle.::

::Acknowledged.::

On the main monitor, Jazz saw the white and blue battle station slowly transform, pulling away from Autobot City proper as he shifted into his robot form. "This could get ugly again."

"An understatement." Prowl pointed at the edge of the screen. "Look closer. Isn't that Cyclonus, Scourge, and the Sweeps?"

"Is Galvatron with them?" Bluestreak asked from behind them.

Jazz started faintly, not realizing Bluestreak was still with them. "Blue? Why aren't ya reportin' to yer battle station?"

The gunner scowled. "Because I'm staying here to guard the two of you and I don't care if it gets me tossed in the brig later I'm not leaving you two alone when you're both carrying!"

"Galvatron is not present," Prowl said. "Cyclonus seems to be in charge." He glanced at Bluestreak. "Follow regulations and ask my permission for Primus' sake!"

Bluestreak looked abashed. "Oh, right, yessir. Permission to remain as your personal bodyguard?"

"Granted." Prowl turned back to the monitors. ::Prowl to Blaster. Cyclonus, Scourge, and Sweeps sighted. They're deploying to the north and south of us. Looks like a three front attack.::

::Acknowledged,:: Blaster replied. ::I'm redirecting our forces.::

::Suggestion,:: Prowl said, clearly in full tactician mode. ::Sideswipe and Sunstreaker are best suited to focus on Scourge and his Sweeps. Skyfire can keep Cyclonus distracted while Pipes deploys his corrosive gasses.::

::Gotcha. Blaster out.::

Jazz smiled at his mate, always loving seeing him in action, then glanced at Bluestreak, whose horrified gaze was pinned on the image of Trypticon. "I suggest you guard the door instead of stare at the monitors."

Bluestreak jerked slightly. "Oh yes! Right sir!" He scrambled for the door, pulling his rifle from subspace and taking a defendable position.

Grinning and shaking his head, Jazz returned his attention to the monitors and relaxed slightly at the sight of their forces meeting the Decepticons _en masse._

Prowl suddenly leaned forward, however. "Wait . . . three of the Sweeps just veered sharply and have disappeared from view."

Jazz hit the comm. immediately. ::Sideswipe! Three Sweeps just fell off our monitors. Can ya verify direction?::

A burst of static, then Sideswipe's voice filled the room. ::No, sir! Those slaggin' clones are everywhere. We've got our hands full, so I didn't see them.::

Jazz cursed. ::Roger that. Jazz out.::

Prowl frantically brought up multiple camera angles and redirected the spy satellites. "I don't see them." He narrowed the focus of the satellites, zooming in on several key areas of Autobot City. "Nothing!"

"In the base?" Jazz asked, searching the frequencies for any mention of the errant Sweeps.

"Checking." Prowl flew through the buttons and switches, flashing through the screens at a speed even Jazz's processor couldn't handle. "Located! Inside the city, coming in from southern entrance and . . ." He met Jazz's gaze. ". . . headed for us. Their mission must be to deactivate the command center."

"Slaggit!" Bluestreak turned toward them, his fear evident. "I won't let them harm you."

Jazz felt it then: the burn of the Gestation Protection program. His circuits tingled with energy, his entire sensory network seemed to sharpen by 200 percent, and several new defensive subroutines popped into his processor. "Ah, hell nah. They're not touchin' my sparklin'!" He whipped his photon rifle from subspace and scanned the room for the most defendable location.

Prowl had gone rigid, and Jazz could sense the same fire lighting in him. Prowl shook himself faintly and activated his comm. link. ::Blurr, Kup, and Arcee: reroute to southern entrance passageway. Deception infiltration. Headed for command center.::

::Acknowledged, sir,:: came three replies.

Jazz waved for Prowl to follow him to a computer bank, and his mate joined him, ducking behind the structure. Bluestreak remained in position at the door.

"Let's get Special Ops in on this party," Jazz said, activating his comm. link as well. ::Mirage and Bumblebee: Decepticon infiltrators bearin' down on command center.::

Mirage's voice came back before he could finish the order. ::On our way, sir!::

::Sound of approaching footsteps,:: Bluestreak transmitted over his internal comm., and he raised his weapon, taking aim. ::No preempting of our IFF given so it's probably the Sweeps. Preparing to fire.::

Jazz and Prowl hovered shoulder-to-shoulder, their bond ringing with the need to protect their offspring. Then the room seemed to explode. Bluestreak fired. A Sweep flew straight through the entrance, knocking the gunner down. And then the ceiling fell in, blasted open.

"Attack!" Cyclonus' voice cut through the noise.

Laser fire erupted over Jazz's head, and he took aim at the new 'Con SIC, returning fire. Sweeps filled the room, a blue clone army. Mirage's electro-disrupter cut through the room, piercing two Sweeps, the only indication he'd arrived. Bluestreak hopped back to his feet, picking off several Sweeps with chilling accuracy. Prowl fired acid pellets at the Sweep aiming for Teletraan II, and Jazz shifted positions, gaining a better shot at Cyclonus, who was distracted by Bumblebee's arrival.

Jazz aimed for Cyclonus' spark chamber and fired, but he dodged at the last instant, taking the hit in one wing. Howling in rage, Cyclonus turned toward the far left computer bank and fired repeatedly. Bluestreak shot his weapon from his hand, but it was too late. Jazz grabbed Prowl, jerking them both to the floor as the computer shattered into shrapnel. Jazz felt stinging in his arms and legs, heard Bumblebee's and Bluestreak's screams, and then registered Arcee's voice: "Kill the slaggers!"

Jazz lay still, holding Prowl against him and noting the energon leaking from various wounds to his bondmate's armor. "Prowler! Ya okay?"

"It's all minor." Prowl pulled them closer, pressing their spark chambers together defensively. "Let's just stay down."

Smoke filled the air as the destroyed computer caught on fire, then the security system kicked in, spraying flame-retardant foam. After that, Jazz couldn't see anything, only hear his companions' yells over the laser fire:

"Keep them away from Teletraan!" Kup.

"We-won't-let-you-win-we'll-never-let-you-win-so-you-might-as-well-give-up-slaggers-'cause-we're-gonna-blow-you-to-the-Pit!" Blurr.

"If you hurt Prowl and Jazz, then only pain will you have!" Wheelie.

Jazz shuddered, horrified to know the youngling was present in the battle.

"Fraggin' stupid 'Cons I'll blow you back to Charr you miserable bastards and if there's anything of you left I hope Galvatron melts it in a smelting pit for your failure!" Bluestreak, enraged.

"Retreat!" Cyclonus.

Jazz snickered as the roar of jet engines filled the room then left. He glanced at Prowl, who lay rigidly in his arms.

"You didn't feel any pains in your chest, right?" Prowl asked.

Jazz felt the fear snaking through their bond. "No, none. What 'bout ya?"

"None." Prowl shivered. "Oh, Primus, that was close. Too close."

Arcee's voice cut through the chattering Autobots. "Teletraan II shows damage, but main operations are still functional."

Suddenly, Blurr and Bluestreak appeared through the smoke.

"Are-you-two-all-right-please-tell-me-you're-all-right-and-that-thes-parklings-weren't-hurt!" Blurr leaned over them.

"I think we're all four fine. Just minor injuries." Jazz slowly sat up, pulling Prowl up with him.

"We have to withstand scares like this for another 70 orns?" Bluestreak asked, clearly horrified.

Prowl shivered again.

"Not-now-not-now-not-now! Must-get-Jazz-and-Prowl-to-medbay!" Blurr reached down and before Jazz could register what was happening, he'd picked him up bridal style. "You-first-because-your-sparkling-is-weak!"

"Waaaiiiit!" Jazz gasped as Blurr took off, running through the corridors with CPU-freezing speed. Even with his advanced visor to aid his optics, Jazz barely processed the visual onslaught.

Blurr halted abruptly before the medbay doors, growling impatiently as they finally registered his presence and opened, then zipped inside. "Ratchet! Jazz-was-hurt-in-the-attack! Please-check-his-sparkling-and-treat-him!"

Ratchet and Wheeljack glanced up from their patients, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker, and stared at Jazz with blatant terror.

"On the berth now!" Ratchet pointed to the nearest open berth.

Jazz found himself there in one astrosecond. He shook his head faintly as Blurr laid him down. "That's an experience of a lifetime."

Ratchet was already standing over him, scanning his chest. "Energon feed! Now!"

Wheeljack rushed to comply.

"The sparkling is fine," Ratchet said, visibly relaxing at the results of the scan. "But we can't let you lose any more energon. We're barely keeping you energized enough to support the sparkling as it is."

Wheeljack returned with the energon and tubes and began attaching them to Jazz. "Stay very still."

Jazz remained uncharacteristically quiet, letting them fuss over him. Bluestreak and Kup arrived a few kliks later, supporting Prowl between them. Wheelie trailed behind them.

" — said the wounds are minor!" Prowl was saying.

Ratchet pointed to the berth beside Jazz's. "Aft. On berth. Now."

Jazz smiled. Even Prowl knew better than to argue with that. He allowed his guardians to assist him onto the berth and then lay down. Ratchet scanned his chest as well.

"Your sparkling's fine, and your systems seem to have stabilized." Ratchet subspaced the scanner. "Still, we need to repair you immediately and get some energon in you. We can't take any chances."

Prowl nodded, and Bluestreak hovered over him as Wheeljack transferred his attention to the tactician.

Wheelie walked over and peered at Jazz, a worried frown on his face. "Is Jazz's sparkling okay? I didn't hear anyone say."

"Yeah, kiddo." Jazz smiled, reaching out and squeezing the child's hand. "Just think. You'll eventually have some young playmates."

Wheelie grinned, but Ratchet waved him away. "I need space to work here." The CMO pulled out several tools and glanced over the shrapnel embedded in Jazz's armor. "All minor, by the looks of it, but it's going to take awhile."

"I understand ya." Jazz sighed deeply through his intakes, none-too-pleased to find himself back in medbay so soon.

Beside him, Sideswipe and Sunstreaker groaned.

"Now it'll be joors before we get out of here," Sideswipe said, although his exasperation sounded only half-serious. "Look at all the attention they're getting just because they're carrying twins!"

Sunstreaker snickered, and Sideswipe gave Jazz a lopsided grin.

"Yeah, ya ain't gonna be the only pair now," Jazz teased them.

Hoist entered medbay then, dragging Grapple with him. Seeing the twins, they headed straight for Sideswipe and Sunstreaker.

"Oh, no! No, no, no." Sunstreaker shook his head. "Grapple may be a perfectionist, but he still can't repair paint jobs worth slag!"

Ratchet grabbed the nearest wrench and hurled it at Sunstreaker's head without even looking. The yellow twin was too injured to duck in time, and the tool bounced off his helm. "Shut up," the CMO ordered, "or I'll melt you down and use you to fix the command center's ceiling."

Jazz chuckled and tried to console himself with the thought that he'd have Sunstreaker's and Sideswipe's antics as a distraction.

oOoOo

Ratchet entered the access code for his quarters and stepped inside as the doors opened. It had taken Wheeljack and him seven joors to repair the damage to Prowl and Jazz, but overall, the situation had been better than he first feared. He'd released the couple to recharge in their own quarters.

He glanced around the room, which was dimmed to the city's nighttime blue glow, and located Wheeljack sitting at their private computer terminal, reading. "What are you researching so late at night?"

Wheeljack didn't turn around. "How to separate a sparkling from its genitor."

"You're still nervous about that? I told you I'd run you through simulations." Ratchet walked up behind his mate and squeezed his shoulders. "Don't worry. They probably won't undergo separation at the same time, so it's likely all you'll have to do is assist."

Wheeljack still didn't look up. "I know. But today's battle made me realize that the unexpected can and does happen, so I want to be prepared."

Ratchet frowned. His mate sounded incredibly clinical. He reached through their bond and met the mental equivalent of a brick wall. "Okay. Spill it. What's going on?"

"Nothing."

Ratchet held in a sigh. "Then let off the research for now. We've had a long day. Let's just curl up on our berth and relax."

"Okay. But give me another breem. I'm almost finished with the article."

Feeling his patience fraying, Ratchet glared at the computer as though it were a rival lover. Ever since their argument after discovering Jazz's sparkling, Wheeljack had been distant. Ratchet couldn't quite pin it down: they had curled up together that night, hugging and reassuring each other. Every night since, Wheeljack let him hold him while they slept, although he never reversed the gesture. But past the occasional quick kiss, he'd been withdrawn. In fact, when they were in the medbay, Wheeljack addressed him in a purely professional, almost cold, tone. "Look, 'Jack . . ."

"I _said_ give me a klik."

Ratchet stared at the back of his mate's helm and knew that although they'd talked after their argument, something was still hurting Wheeljack. He replayed the conversation in his processor and landed on the most likely culprit. "Look. When I said I didn't want to turn spark merging into a duty, I didn't mean I wanted to avoid it entirely. You've been really distant with me lately. We haven't even _interfaced_ in ten orns, much less spark merged. That has to be an all time record for times when we aren't buried in work."

Having retracted his blast mask for the night, Wheeljack simply turned toward him and smiled. "Well, you said I'd put too much pressure on you and exhausted you when you were already tired, so I thought I'd give you a break." He turned back to their computer and resumed reading the article. "Besides, I know that in general I can be pushy."

Ratchet frowned. Something was very, very wrong. "I wouldn't say 'pushy.' You're just passionate and unrestrained, which gives you greater needs than mine. It's not like I ever minded it."

Wheeljack kept his stare pinned on the monitor. "Until now," he replied quietly, his vocal indicators flashing a dull blue.

Worried, Ratchet circled his arms around his shoulders, hugging him. "I'm sorry I said what I did that night. I didn't plan to hurt you. I was lashing out randomly, not caring where my anger went. I should control my temper better than that, period, but hurting you with it is something I have never wanted to do."

"I just thought you might need some time to recover." Wheeljack didn't pull away, but he didn't lean back and rest against Ratchet like he normally did.

Ratchet frowned again. "I appreciate that. But I'm up to 97.4 percent functional capacity now, so I've had all the time I need. 'Jack, I . . ." He paused, uncomfortable. "I miss you. You've started to pull away from me. I realize I deserve it since I've always reacted to stress by burying myself in my work, but please come back. I don't want to lose you over this."

Wheeljack shifted and swiveled the chair to face him. "I don't want to lose you, either, but I'd be lying if I said that our argument and the intense work on Jazz's sparkling hasn't taken its toll. I have feelings I shouldn't have — anger, jealousy, pain — and I can't seem to let them go. And I don't know what I even want anymore. Part of me wants to never stop trying for another sparkling, and the other part of me wants to just completely withdraw from everyone and everything."

"But you can't just avoid life." Ratchet gently clasped his bondmate's face between his hands, caressing his cheeks with his thumbs. "Do you still love me?" He already knew the answer, but he needed to hear the words anyway.

"Of course." Wheeljack smiled sadly. "Even when you hurt me, I still love you."

"And I still love you," Ratchet said, leaning down and kissing his forehead. "So trust me when I say your feelings are normal and natural, and we'll get through this together."

Wheeljack relaxed slightly. "I know. But — "

"But nothing." Ratchet silenced him with a kiss, brushing his lips across Wheeljack's and then returning to suck on his lower lip. Wheeljack returned the kiss, the air hitching in his intakes, and reached for him. Encouraged, Ratchet straddled his lap and placed one hand on the back of his helm, pulling him further into the kiss.

Wheeljack moaned faintly, hugging his waist, and Ratchet took the opportunity to slip his glossa past his lips, exploring his mouth. Wheeljack met him with equal passion, so with a practiced touch Ratchet ran his hands down his back and stroked his winglets, drawing a groan of appreciation. Then he slipped his fingers into the transformation seams at the winglets' bases, caressing and stimulating the wiring there with soft pulses of current from his fingertips.

Breaking their kiss, Wheeljack gasped and arched, rubbing their chassis together in the process. "Ahhh! Primus!" He shivered, then ran his hands under Ratchet's aft and stood, carrying him over to their berth. "You'll pay for that one," he said, smiling as he lowered Ratchet onto his back and climbed atop him.

"Oh? I will?" Ratchet grinned, knowing the contest was on.

"Definitely." Wheeljack leaned down and kissed his neck, nibbling at the cables there. Moaning, Ratchet offlined his optics and allowed his head to fall back, exposing more of his throat. Even as he sucked on Ratchet's neck, Wheeljack caressed his chassis, dipping under his front bumper and gently fondling him. Ratchet cried out, arching his back, and felt compelled to simply let his bondmate 'win' the night's round.

Then Wheeljack's hands ran down his frame, delving into his hip joints. He could feel the fingers caressing his transformation seams, then pushing deeper. They slowly parted wires, sending pulses into the exposed circuits and making Ratchet's entire body burn. He bucked his hips, crying out in pleasure.

"I always love it when you let go," Wheeljack whispered into his audio, making him shiver but reminding him that his bondmate needed release as badly as he did.

"Oh, no you don't." Ratchet reached down to run his finger around the edges of Wheeljack's interface chamber. "This isn't a one 'bot ride."

Wheeljack shuddered, pressing his hips against Ratchet's hand and triggering open the chamber. Ratchet grinned and circled the port with his fingers, teasing it with light touches.

Wheeljack squirmed at the touch, moaning loudly, but didn't pull away. "Cheater," he gasped.

Ratchet laughed and pulled out his bondmate's interfacing cable, stroking it as he did. "I never promised to play fair."

With a small cry of pleasure, Wheeljack rested his forehead on his bondmate's chest. After a few deep intakes, he triggered Ratchet's chamber open and pulled out his cable as well. "Then two can play this game," he replied in a strained voice, caressing the length of the cord slowly, generating friction as he did.

Ratchet arched his back and hips, moaning, then collapsed against the berth. "Now who's the cheater?"

Wheeljack grinned and slipped Ratchet's cable into his port, and then allowed Ratchet to return the favor. For a moment, they froze still, feeling their systems synching and their surface thoughts bleeding together, then Wheeljack sent an electric current rushing through Ratchet's circuits, causing them both to moan. Ratchet reciprocated, flooding Wheeljack's body with a tingling heat.

::Need you!:: Wheeljack transmitted through their bond, and Ratchet folded back the panels on his spark chamber as his bondmate did the same.

::Give me all you have, everything you are,:: Ratchet whispered through their connection, pulling Wheeljack down until their chests met. As their sparks merged, their passion, pain, love, and grief poured into each other, fusing together and washing away the tension. They clung to one another, moaning helplessly as jolts of electricity and heat raced through their cables and sparks to set their bodies aflame. Wheeljack caught Ratchet's mouth at the last moment, kissing him, their lips meeting as their essences had, and in that instant, Wheeljack filled his mind and body completely. Then for the first time since their reactivation, their sparks surged as their systems overloaded, and they yelled each other's names.

They collapsed on the berth in exhaustion, but Ratchet could still feel Wheelajck's consciousness alongside his own. Nothing was more peaceful than feeling his bondmate's essence and love within him, so although Ratchet closed his spark chamber, he didn't disconnect them. Wheeljack read his intentions and likewise only closed his spark camber, then wrapped his arms around him. With a smile, Ratchet relaxed into the comforting presence of Wheeljack's mind blended with his own and allowed himself to slip into recharge.


	6. The Rarest Thing

_A/N: Obviously, I decided when I added chapter 3 to this story to mix the idea of protoforms from Beast Wars/TFA with the straight-up designing and building in the G1cartoon. As a result, I've created an in-between version and will be using the protoform concept in a modified way._

_Slightly altered events from the episode "The Ultimate Weapon" play a role in this chapter._

_Note: The Joyride in this chapter is should not be confused with the Powermaster Joyride._

_Thank you to everyone who reviewed chapter 5! You all are so awesome!_

_

* * *

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oOoOo

_"To live is the rarest thing in the world. Most people exist, that is all."_  
-Oscar Wilde

_**Chapter 6: The Rarest Thing**_

The rec hall buzzed with activity, mechs and femmes flitting between various tables. A crimson banner hung across the back wall, reading in English and Cybertronian "We Celebrate New Life: Congratulations Prowl and Jazz." Matching red decorations — streamers, balloons, and table center pieces — had been provided by the Witwickies with Bumblebee's help. Many Autobots, including Rodimus Prime, Moonracer, the Dinobots, and the Protectobots, had travelled from Cybertron for the party. Glasses of high-grade and plates of energon snacks were being spread around the room, along with some human food, and several 'bots crowded around Prowl and Jazz, wishing them well.

Prowl smiled at his friends and compatriots, doing his best to tolerate all the talking and music, but he'd never liked parties. Their Sparkling Unveiling celebration was no different. "I have to sit for awhile," he whispered to Jazz.

"Sure, babe." Jazz squeezed his hand, opting to remain among the crowd.

Reassured, Prowl retreated to the guests-of-honor's table, where Daniel and Wheelie had invited themselves to sit as well. They were playing a human game on a datapad.

"Prowl looks tired, but Jazz seems wired," Wheelie said as Prowl took a seat.

Prowl smiled at the youngling, who was barely past his own sparklinghood. "I'd just prefer to skip to the part where we unveil the protoforms and then leave everyone else to party as long as they like."

Daniel looked up from the datapad he was scribbling on. "Mom said this is like a baby shower, 'cause it's done a month before the sparklings are supposed to be born. Except they're not babies, and they don't get born." He frowned, his forehead wrinkling with obvious confusion. "And girls don't have to carry them, any 'bot can, and they're really just balls of energy."

"We don't get created like humans do," Wheelie said, taking the datapad from his friend and adding to the scribbling, "so it's not surprising it doesn't make sense to you."

Prowl nodded wearily. "Wheelie's right. It would be easier if you didn't compare sparklings to babies." Granted, he felt like had some of Carly's symptoms from being pregnant with Daniel. After sixty orns, he felt like he had no energy left at all, and the sparkling was drawing so much power from his systems he had to consume twice the amount of energon he normally needed. "I really just want this to be finished now," he mumbled to himself. He felt like he'd lost control of half his systems, which disturbed him greatly.

The rec doors hissed opened, and Ratchet and Wheeljack entered with a box that they'd loaded on a rolling cart. Carly sat on the box, wearing a sequined crimson dress and matching pumps, her blonde hair tucked into a twist. She'd agreed to be the Master of Ceremonies for the event and had chosen to wear red since it was the color for luck on Cybertron.

Seeing the telltale box, the room grew quiet. As Ratchet and Wheeljack stepped back, Carly stood atop the box. "Thank you for attending this special celebration for Jazz and Prowl, where we will honor two new lives." She turned toward the couple in question, and Jazz took a seat by Prowl, holding his hand under the table.

"This is a momentous occasion for two officers and friends we've known for so long," she continued. "Sentient life is rare in the universe, and we celebrate each new addition. Congratulations on becoming genitors, and we all wish you well for your upcoming separations."

Everyone clapped, and Prowl squeezed his bondmate's hand in a mixture of joy and shyness.

"So," Carly said, carefully stepping over to the cart's handrail and sitting down. "Without further ado, we will now unveil the sparkling protoforms for Kimi and Silverstreak."

Ratchet and Wheeljack stepped forward and opened the box, revealing two small bodies, each two feet long and just the right size for most 'bots to hold comfortably. Everyone clapped again, cheering at a sight not often seen. Prowl smiled at Jazz, and he grinned back.

"They came out extremely well," Prowl whispered.

"Of course they did!" Jazz leaned over and kissed his cheek.

The room grew quiet again as Wheeljack explained the sparklings' specs, abilities, and strengths, and then expounded on Kimi's design as a spy and Silverstreak's as a military tactician.

"No one seems surprised at our lack of imagination," Prowl said.

Jazz chuckled. "We don't lack imagination. We just wanted to honor each other with our sparklings."

Daniel was obviously losing interest in the tech talk. "They're both black and white. If they're creations and not like babies, then why make them look so much like you?"

Prowl felt a processor ache coming on. The poor human child was hopelessly confused by his species' schema for reproduction. "We chose those colors because we did want them to look like us. They might not be babies, but they're the closest we can get to human reproduction."

Daniel stared at him blankly. "It's still weird that boy robots can carry 'babies.'"

"We don't actually have physical sexes." Prowl held in a sigh, deciding that explaining the technicalities was probably useless. He glanced back to Wheeljack and Ratchet and found Wheeljack watching him nervously. He nodded his head in encouragement. Carly looked between them and nodded as well.

"If I may have your attention again," she said, carefully standing on the box's edge. "We actually have a surprise for all of you. Since we're already gathered and celebrating, I'm pleased to announce that Ratchet and Wheeljack have become genitors as well."

A few gasps met these words, then everyone clapped again. Ultra Magnus squeezed Wheeljack's shoulder while Arcee hugged Ratchet.

Daniel stared at the commotion. "Another sparkling?"

"This is such an exciting day!" Wheelie bounced slightly in his seat. "Now we'll have another one with whom to play."

Prowl found himself hoping that none of their sparklings picked up Wheelie's rhyming speech, but Jazz was laughing.

"That's right, kiddo!" Jazz grinned. "We'll have a base fulla sparklings."

Prowl turned his attention to Red Alert, just to gauge his reaction. Sure enough, the poor mech's optics were bright and wide, and he looked ready to have a spark attack. "Yes, we will. And I think Red Alert is scarred for life."

Jazz just laughed harder.

Blaster entered the room then, pushing a second cart. Prowl managed to rouse himself so he and Jazz could see the finished sparkling protoform Wheeljack and Ratchet had been secretly working on.

"We didn't want to announce it until we were sure the sparkling would take," Wheeljack was explaining as he opened the box.

"We were both nearly killed, after all," Ratchet added, although a select few, including Prowl, Jazz, and Rodimus, knew the real reason for their hesitation.

Blurr was suddenly standing at the medic's side. "We'll-have-three-sparklings-at-the-same-time? Really-really? How-far-along-is-your-sparkling-and-which-one-of-you-is-carrying?"

Ratchet grinned. "Thirty-five orns. And Wheeljack's carrying. His systems seem to be optimal for it, although we haven't completely analyzed why."

Prowl smiled at Jazz and took his hand again, and they shared a soft look. ::I'm glad we convinced them to do their Unveiling along with ours,:: Prowl said over their bond.

::I'm glad they're feelin' confident enough to tell everyone,:: Jazz replied, squeezing his hand. ::I thought I was gonna bust if I had to keep the secret any longer!::

Several awed exclamations drew their attention back to the box, where a femme sparkling lay protected in special foam. Her body was white with red and green racing stripes and a red chevron. Her face, hands, and feet were pale grey.

"She's lovely!" Moonracer said, leaning in for a closer look.

"What will you name her?" Arcee joined her friend to peer at the new femme.

"Joyride," Ratchet replied.

"We gave her the programming and fine motor skills necessary for a medic or an engineer, so she'll have plenty of choices for specialization." Wheeljack smiled at the protoform. "We decided to give the twins some competition, so we chose a Lamborghini Gallardo as her Earth alt form."

Prowl glanced at Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and had to smother a laugh at their expressions of horror.

"Competition?" Sideswipe echoed.

"She can never be as beautiful as I am," Sunstreaker immediately declared.

Ratchet snorted. "Sure she'll be. Twice as beautiful and just as fast and well-armed. Consider it retribution for all the times I've had to patch your hides back together."

The room erupted into laughter, and even the twins were smiling.

Ecstatic for his friends but ready to drop unconscious, Prowl released Jazz's hand and sneaked from the room. ::Stay as long as you like,:: he transmitted to his bondmate. ::I need some recharge, though.::

He wasn't surprised when Jazz caught up with him in the hallway.

"Hey, babe." Jazz slipped his arm around his waist. "It's a wonderful party they threw for us, but I'm with ya. I'm exhausted."

Since everyone was at the party except for a small security complement, Prowl put his arm around Jazz's shoulders and drew him close as they walked. "I can't believe we have another twenty eight orns of this. All the ancient Cybertronian poetry sings the praises of sparking, but I'm beginning to see why it was not one of the more often-used methods of reproducing."

Jazz laughed. "It still seems better than that one ancient documentary I saw on buddin'."

Prowl shuddered. "I saw a still frame in an archive once. That was more than enough to convince me not to do it, even before the incident with the Swarm."

"Straight-up buildin' is so unromantic, though," Jazz said, leaning into his bondmate and grinning.

"You would say that." Prowl kissed the tip of his nose. "We'll see if you're still saying that during the separation surgery."

"Let's not go there right now." Jazz brushed their lips together.

Prowl snorted. "If you have enough energy to do _that_, you might as well have stayed at the party."

"Nah, I don't have the energy for that." Jazz pulled him down the hallway, increasing their speed. "But that don't mean some quality smoochin' isn't in order."

Prowl shook his head and smiled, allowing himself to be tugged into their quarters. "I really can't argue with that."

oOoOo

With effort, Wheeljack pulled himself out of recharge and rebooted his systems. He'd barely regained consciousness and already he was hungry. Groaning, he forced himself to sit up, only to realize Ratchet was already gone and a cube of energon was sitting on their berth-side table.

Wheeljack smiled, thanking Primus he had such a thoughtful bondmate, and releasing his blast mask, he downed the cube in four gulps. His sluggish processor then drew his attention to his chronometer, which immediately informed him that he was two joors late for his shift.

"Oh, slag!" Tossing down the empty cube, he rushed from his quarters and scrambled to the medbay. "Why didn't you wake me?" he asked as he entered.

Ratchet glanced up from the main supply cabinet. "Because you needed the rest." He smiled. "If you have to carry again, the least I can do is keep you fed and rested."

Glancing around the medbay and seeing they were alone, Wheeljack walked over and kissed him. "Sweet, but unnecessary." Leaving his mask open, he allowed Ratchet to see his teasing smile.

"Liar."

Wheeljack laughed and glanced into the cabinet. "I take it you've finished stocking the supply shipment from Cybertron."

With a frown, Ratchet surveyed the contents; coils of wires, microchips, circuits, and various other components were arranged in labeled boxes. "Yeah, I couldn't wait any longer. We've been dangerously low on parts for so long now I was beginning to have nightmares about going into surgery without them."

"That _is_ a nightmare." Wheeljack shuddered faintly and snaked his arm around Ratchet's waist. "Although we've done it before."

"With three sparklings in my care, I don't even want to consider it." Ratchet pointed to ICU 1. "I've spent the morning setting up an ICU chamber for emergency separation surgery just in case Jazz's sparkling decides to act up on us." He wrapped his arm around Wheeljack's shoulders. "I aim to be prepared. In fact, I aim to be over-prepared."

Wheeljack nodded and leaned against his bondmate. "Yeah, it's best." He sighed, an inexplicable wave of sadness washing through him. "I hope it doesn't come to that. I don't want to see them have to face even a fraction of the suffering we did."

Ratchet placed his hand on Wheeljack's chest, over his spark chamber. "I don't either. And frankly, it took all the courage I had to let Carly announce our news last night." He stared blankly at his hand. "If something goes wrong this time, I don't think I can — "

"Don't." Trying to stave off the pain, Wheeljack leaned up and kissed him. "Don't even think about it. Let's just focus on positive things: our sparkling is strong, and the protoform is excellent, even if I have to say so myself."

With a small smile, Ratchet kissed him back. "Everyone did seem impressed, especially Arcee and Moonracer."

Wheeljack nodded, but he found his gaze wandering over the quiet, empty medbay. "Sometimes I wish it could always be this way. I wish this war would end, but after millions of stellar cycles, I know better."

"As you said, let's focus on what's good: at least we are still here and have each other." Ratchet hugged him closer.

Wheeljack smiled sadly, thinking of all those who had died and all those who would die yet. "Yes, at least we have that."

oOoOo

Staring at Teletraan II's main monitor, Prowl frowned. He'd been on his shift for a mere breem, and already they were receiving a distress call. Given how exhausted he still felt from the party the evening before, it did not bode well for his orn. "The Netherlands?" He glanced at Jazz. "Why the sudden explosion of gang activity there?"

"I have no idea," Jazz said from the comm. station. "It's just as well that Rodimus and the others haven't left yet." He activated the emergency command frequency. ::Jazz to Rodimus and Ultra Magnus. Distress call from the Netherlands.::

::Rodimus here. We're on our way.::

Prowl activated his personal comm. link. ::Prowl to Hot Spot. Gather the Protectobots and report to the command center.::

::Acknowledged," came the reply.

Within a few kliks, Rodimus, Ultra Magnus, and the Protectobots were puzzling over the violence as well.

"Let's take Metroplex," Rodimus said, watching footage of the French gangsters throwing grenades in a small Dutch village. "We can set up a base there temporarily until the situation is sorted out."

Hot Spot shook his head. "Why do humans have to be so violent toward each other?"

Prowl was inclined to agree with him, but after over twenty years of watching humans wage war, he couldn't feel surprised at their self-destructive tendencies. And given the fact they'd destroyed Cybertron with their own war, he didn't feel like he had a right to criticize humans, either.

Rodimus turned and frowned at the Protectobots. "Well, you're not exactly helping by standing around!"

Hot Spot backed up a step. "Easy, there. We're on our way." With a motion to his team, he transformed, the others following him closely as he sped away.

"Try not to be so hard on them," Ultra Magnus said, clasping his shoulder.

Rodimus sighed. "I didn't intend to be. I just . . . don't believe I am as effective of a leader as Optimus Prime was."

Prowl traded looks with Jazz. "Look, man," Jazz said, "ya don't have to live in Optimus' shadow. Everyone has a different command style."

Prowl felt a wave of irritation, but he bit back the urge to say _Confidence in yourself is the first step to being a great leader!_

Ultra Magnus was nodding. "Yes, believe in yourself. Now let's round up Metroplex and head for the Netherlands. I'm sure Spike and Daniel will want to go, too."

"Very well."

Prowl watched the two friends head out of the command center, then turned to face Jazz. "Our new Prime is spending too much time comparing himself to Optimus."

"Yeah. It's like he's just goin' through the motions of command or somethin'." Jazz rubbed his chin, apparently deep in thought. "He was awful young when the Matrix chose him, but yer right. He can't keep lookin' to the past or overanalyzin' the present."

"Like I was doing?" Prowl smiled.

"Yeah, ya were." Jazz returned the smile. "But ya made it through, and hopefully Rodimus will, too."

Prowl gazed back at the monitor, which showed their new leader leaving with Metroplex, Ultra Magnus, and the Aerialbots. "I have to say, though, I miss Optimus. I miss them all. It hurts to think that Optimus and Ironhide won't get to see our sparklings. And there are so many others, too: Brawn, Huffer, Windcharger — "

Jazz leaned over and squeezed his hand. "I know, babe. I know."

Feeling coolant pooling in his optics, Prowl found himself unable to reply. He knew the subroutines for the sparkling kept his emotional programming off-balance, but he still could barely quell the urge to cry.

"We'll just have to tell stories," Jazz said, still holding his hand. "Stories of great warriors and great leaders. We'll make the past come alive for Kimi and Silverstreak even though we'll keep our focus on the future."

At the sound of their sparklings' names, a wave of unease replaced Prowl's grief. "A focus on the future is good, but so is a focus on the present. And right now I'm concerned about this odd turn of events in the Netherlands."

"You suspect Decepticon activity?" Jazz glanced at Teletraan's screen, where the spy satellite showed even elderly women had taken up arms. "Looks more like human terrorist activity than anything."

Prowl shook his head, his battle computer running scenarios. "The conflict arose too quickly, and the French and Dutch have solid diplomatic relations at the moment. And if there is Decepticon activity on Earth again . . ."

"Then we could be seein' some action, too." Jazz frowned. "Yer right. I don't like it at all, Prowler. Let's put the base on yellow alert."

Prowl nodded. "Let's." He contacted Blaster with his plan, unable to shake his sense of foreboding.

oOoOo

The red alert alarm blared to life around midnight, jerking Jazz and Prowl from recharge. Jazz's systems rebooted sluggishly, just as they had for the last three Earth weeks, and he slowly cleared his processor of fuzz.

::Blaster to Jazz and Prowl. Report to the command center immediately!::

::On our way,:: Jazz replied over the comm. link, watching Prowl shake himself fully awake.

"What now?" Prowl asked, his voice more of a growl.

Jazz grinned as he stood and stretched. "Yer becomin' a real grouch, babe."

"We _need_ our recharge!"

Knowing the anger wasn't directed at him, Jazz just smiled and led his cranky bondmate to the command center.

"What's up, Blaster?" he asked as they entered.

Blaster pointed to Teletraan II's main screen. "Ultra Magnus's report isn't good. The Decepticons were behind the violence in the Netherlands. Metroplex's transformation cog has been stolen, Blades was wounded, and now First Aid has gone AWOL. To top that, Galvatron is leading the attacks and claims to have some kind of ultimate weapon."

"And you awakened us why?" Prowl asked bluntly. "They're on the other side of the world from us right now. Unless you've detected activity here?"

Blaster stared at his SIC in obvious shock.

Jazz chuckled. "Don't mind him, sir. He seems to be gettin' real cranky durin' the final stage of gestation."

"Oh." Blaster shook his head. "Well, I called you here for this." He changed the view to Autobot City's air space, where six flying objects could be seen approaching. "The readings indicate they're human Airforce jets, but no one has asked our permission to use our air space. To top that, none of the bases I've talked to have maneuvers planned for tonight."

"Decepticons," Prowl stated flatly.

"Ultra Magnus has verified that Cyclonus is with Galvatron," Blaster continued, "so that likely means — "

"Scourge and the Sweeps," Jazz interrupted. "This makes the second time in two months. They're after something specific."

"They likely want access to something in Teletraan II's archives," Prowl said. "It explains their previous behavior. They mean to take the information and then destroy Teletraan."

"But what could they want?" Blaster gestured around at the room at large. "There's nothing in Teletraan's banks that can't be accessed on Cybertron. Why try the same tactic twice?"

"Unless they're after some particular project we've been working on," Jazz said. "Or maybe they got wind of somethin' we were workin' on when they were here before.

"But that's just it." Blaster sighed and crossed his arms. "We haven't been working on anything special. Ever since the attack, all we've worked on are repairs to Autobot City. Wheeljack hasn't even been inventing anything because all his efforts have gone to . . ." He trailed off, a look of horror washing over his face.

"Sparklings," Jazz whispered.

Prowl's doorwings grew rigid. "There haven't been any reports of the Decepticons sparking for over eight million stellar cycles. If they've decided to begin sparking and wanted the latest files on protoforms and designs, their intel would tell them that the most logical place to raid — "

"Would be here!" Jazz finished. Every circuit in his entire body burned as the Gestation Protection program sprang to life, its power doubled by the Sparkling Interlink subroutine, which allowed him to sense both his and Prowl's sparklings. "And as soon as they're finished gettin' the info, they'll aim to wipe out the base."

Teletraan II set off a second alert: "Correction: eleven incoming signals detected." A pause. "Correction: sixteen incoming signals. Correction: twenty two incoming — "

"Frag!" Blaster yelled.

Prowl seated himself at the comm. controls and jumped into action, immediately opening connections. ::Prowl to Wheeljack. Decepticon attack on Autobot City with probable intent to steal protoform designs, specs, and/or plans. Please set up an emergency purge should Teletraan II be hacked. The information might not be classified, but we don't want them to know the specific weaknesses of our sparklings.::

::Slaggit!:: Wheeljack's voice echoed through the room. ::Right. You got it.::

Prowl didn't pause. ::Prowl to Ratchet. Prepare medbay for wounded.::

::Acknowledged.:: Ratchet sounded ready to kill with his bare hands the first Decepticon he saw.

::Prowl to Bluestreak. Grab Sunstreaker and Sideswipe and set yourself up on the western parapet. Decepticons are approaching from that direction. Sniper protocol is go.::

::Yessir!:: Bluestreak sounded as angry as Ratchet. ::We'll take them down.::

Blaster was gaping, and Jazz realized the difference in Prowl's age and experience was currently outstripping Blaster's technical status as base commander. He couldn't spare the ex-communications officer's feelings, however. ::Jazz to Mirage and Bumblebee. Incoming Decepticon attack. Target is likely Teletraan II. Initiate plan Zeta Alpha Six."

::Acknowledged,:: came the replies.

Blaster seemed to pull himself together. ::Blaster to Kup and Pipes. Guard the eastern entrance. Arcee and Moonracer, guard the northern entrance. Inferno and Seaspray, guard the southern entrance. Blurr, Topspin, and Broadside, back up the twins and Bluestreak at the western entrance. Skyfire and Powerglide, try to draw away or shoot down as many as you can. Everyone else, take your assigned positions.::

A chorus of "acknowledged" or "yes, sir" meet these orders.

Prowl glared at Teletraan II's viewscreen as the Decepticons grew closer. Skyfire and Powerglide were already in the air, and Jazz stepped up behind his bondmate and squeezed his shoulders.

::Identification made,:: Skyfire announced over the general comm. link. ::Scourge and five Sweeps, Soundwave, the Coneheads, the Constructicons, _and_ the Combaticons."

Jazz cursed. "Devastator and Bruticus! And the Protectobots and Aerialbots are on the other side of the world." His spark lurched in fear for all three unseparated sparklings. "We don't have a single gestalt team here to fight them."

Prowl opened the comm. line again. ::Prowl to Grimlock. How would you like to kill lots of Decepticons?::

::Me Grimlock love to kill Decepticons!::

::Head to the western entrance, then. We have twenty two headed right at us.::

::Me Grimlock get the Dinobots and smash Decepticons!::

::Excellent. Prowl out.:: The instant he closed the connection, Prowl turned and stood, taking Jazz by the arms. "You need to go to the bomb shelter now."

"_What?_" Jazz stared at him in horror, uncomprehending.

"We can't risk both sparklings, and we were both injured during the last attack." Prowl was utterly grim. "You're taking Wheeljack and going to the bomb shelter. It's the safest place in the city."

"Then yer goin' with me!" Jazz grabbed Prowl's arms in return. "I'm not leavin' ya behind here."

"No. I have to stay as the military tactician."

Absolute terror wormed through Jazz's circuits. "Prowler, don't ya dare! I'm head of Special Ops, so I'm not exactly — "

"You can still give orders from the shelter." Prowl pulled him closer. "I need to stay in front of Teletraan II so I can see the battlefield."

"Prowler!"

Prowl jerked him into his arms and kissed him, desperately and deeply, then released him. "That's an order. Go."

Blaster had watched them in silence, but at this he stood. "Prowl is right, Jazz. I concur and order you to report to the shelter."

Every circuit in Jazz's body screamed, but he turned without comment and headed to the shelter. For a surreal moment, he felt like he wasn't in control of his body, and he had to wonder if the Gestation Protection program was influencing his actions. In the distance, he could hear a firefight, and the city shook from missile impacts. Still, his legs carried him, almost by rote, to the bomb shelter, where Wheeljack was awaiting him in front of the doors.

"I know," Wheeljack said, holding out his hand before Jazz could even speak. "But right now our duty actually comes first to the sparklings inside us."

Jazz took his hand and allowed himself to be led inside the shelter. Wheeljack keyed the doors shut behind them, and when they clanged shut, it seemed to be a pronouncement of certain doom. "But 'Jack," he whispered, "Prowler's carryin', too."

"And Ratchet has to stay in medbay." Wheeljack released his blast mask and gave him a sad smile. "This is the price of war. It's the price of choosing to _live_ during a war instead of just merely surviving. We just have to pray to Primus we'll still have bondmates when the orn is finished."

Jazz shuddered, the weight of his dread and the extra subroutines weighing him down. He sank to his knees. "I can't do it again. I can't. I almost lost 'im once. If I lose 'im and the sparklin' at the same time . . ." He clenched his fists against his chest, over where his own sparkling pulsed. "I can't!"

Wheeljack knelt beside him and hugged him. "I know." The barest of whispers under the muted explosion of bombs. "I can't live without Ratchet, either."

They hugged each other in the empty shelter.

oOoOo

Prowl took a defensive position behind the same computer bank he and Jazz had used almost sixty orns earlier. Moonracer and Bluestreak had joined Blaster and him in the control room, and Prowl tried to take some comfort in the fact the Autobots' top two sharpshooters were picking off Sweeps while Blaster was concentrating on Scourge. Unfortunately, Devastator, Bruticus, Soundwave, and his cassettes were keeping their forces tied up outside, and the Coneheads had arrived to support the Sweeps.

Taking aim, Prowl fired acid at Ramjet, who barely missed getting his right wing melted. With a howl of rage, Ramjet returned fire, but Prowl ducked behind the computer bank.

"Hurry it up, Dirge!" Ramjet yelled over the shouts and blaster shots.

Prowl cursed and shifted positions, spying Dirge at Teletraan II's controls. He fired again, burning Dirge's arm. _I'll knock Teletraan II offline if I have to, but I won't let you have those files!_ He could only hope Wheeljack had erected a good enough defense should Dirge still succeed.

A gust of wind blew into the room — a blue streak that slammed Ramjet into the floor and shot Scourge in the back. "Sorry-I'm-late-I've-been-working-my-way-here-for-kliks-but-there-were-so-many-'Cons!"

"Blurr," Prowl murmured with a smile. ::Prowl to Blurr. Stop Dirge from hacking Teletraan II.::

::Acknowledged-sir!:: Blurr zoomed toward the wounded Dirge, smashing him into the far wall by the sheer force of his speed.

"Yes!" Prowl couldn't stop himself from hissing. He focused on the monitors, seeing the Dinobots fighting Bruticus while the twins led an assault against Devastator. Kup, Arcee, and Pipes had teamed up against Soundwave and his creations. Even Carly had joined the fight, shooting at Laserbeak and Ratbat. Then, to his ultimate relief, Teletraan II's comm. flared to life.

::Rodimus Prime to Autobot City. We're on the approach and see firefight. Report!::

Prowl wasn't close enough to answer, but he saw Blaster opening his personal comm. link.

_The "cavalry" has arrived,_ Prowl thought, sizing up the situation. "We're saved," he muttered to himself.

"Don't be so overconfident."

Prowl swung to face the speaker, only to find Thrust aiming at his spark chamber. "Slag, no!" He threw up his arm, knocking aside Thrust's hand as he fired. Feeling unnaturally fast and strong, he propelled himself at his attacker. He executed a roundhouse kick at Thrust's head and then fired as Thrust hit the floor, catching him in the leg. "Never, Decepticon!"

"Bold words," growled a second voice.

Prowl whirled to face the new attacker. The entire universe seemed to slow, showing him every movement like a series of still frames. However, he couldn't react quickly enough. Ramjet was up again and aiming at his chest. _Too far away,_ Prowl thought, diving into a side roll. Blaster fire followed him and clipped his doorwing.

"Die."

Prowl rolled back to his feet, he and Ramjet aiming their rifles simultaneously.

Bluestreak screamed.

A blur of movement in his direction.

A shot from Moonracer, hitting Ramjet's right wing.

And Ramjet's shot passing by Prowl's own, firefight traded.

Prowl lunged sideways again, feeling the hit against his right side. A sharp pain raced through his spark chamber. _Not the sparkling!_

Blurr grabbed him before he even fell. "Hold-on-slaggit!"

Unable to answer, Prowl distantly registered his rifle being knocked from his numb fingers. He shuddered, the pain blooming through his chassis. A dozen warnings flashed through his processor, most of them concerning his spark chamber and the sparkling. _No._

He felt his joints freezing, his systems shutting down. _Stasis lock imminent,_ his processor announced. _Ten astroseconds._

"Primus, no!" Prowl felt the fluids pouring from his chest, tasted bitter coolant in his mouth.

"I'm-taking-you-to-medbay!" Blurr was running at what had to be his top speed.

_. . . six, five . . ._

Prowl heard Jazz's scream of anguish and terror through their bond: _::Prowler!::_

_. . . three, two . . ._

_I refuse to leave you,_ Prowl thought, but the universe seemed to snap out of existence.


	7. No Hell Greater

_"War is hell."_  
-William Sherman

_**Chapter 7: No Hell Greater**_

The entire city shook from missile impacts, causing Ratchet to be thrown against a repair berth. "Slaggit!" He steadied himself and glanced around medbay to make sure no supplies had fallen onto the floor.

Hound, his newest patient, moaned faintly. "Fraggin' . . . 'Cons . . ."

"Hush." Ratchet picked up a welder and began sealing a deep gash on his side. All around them, chaos multiplied. Hoist and Grapple rushed between patients. Skids bled energon all over his berth and the floor. Broadside and Topspin both sat against the wall, groaning in their half-unconscious states. Mirage was in stasis lock, his shoulder crushed, and Beachcomber had collapsed three steps into the room and lay crumpled on the floor. Then Swoop entered, carrying a screaming Powerglide over to a berth.

"Him Powerglide lost wing," Swoop told Ratchet, empathy evident in his voice as he laid down the wounded plane.

"Seal off any leaks," Ratchet yelled over the noise, not glancing up from Hound. "Your training is more than adequate for that. And get Beachcomber out of the doorway."

Swoop complied, moving Beachcomber to an open berth. Ratchet sighed in relief as First Aid hailed him on his private comm. link.

::First Aid to Ratchet. Protectobots approaching. I'll be there to help in approximately three kliks.::

::Acknowledged. Please hurry.:: However, before his relief could sink in, Ratchet felt a pulse of horror through his bond — the only warning he had before Blurr swept into medbay.

"Medical-emergency! Prowl's-been-hit-in-the-chest." He skidded to a stop by Ratchet's side.

Feeling sick to his tanks, Ratchet glanced at the pinkish-purple energon plastered on Prowl's frame and cursed. "ICU 1, immediately!"

Blurr seemed to vanish, and Ratchet turned off the welder, throwing it down. "Sorry, Hound!" He ran for the ICU. "Hoist! Emergency surgery!" He reactivated his comm. link and was unable to keep the panic from his voice. ::Ratchet to First Aid. Get the frag here, now! Sparkling separation emergency.::

::One klik or less!:: First Aid sounded horrified.

Ratchet raced into ICU 1, Hoist and Grapple both on his heels. Blurr had deposited Prowl on the berth. "Hoist, seal off the leaks. Grapple, get the energon feed ready. Blurr, get Kimi's protoform out of storage cabinet E4!"

Blurr zipped from the room without replying as Hoist and Grapple scrambled into action. Ratchet scanned Prowl's chest and, seeing the extent of the damage, immediately began removing what was left of his armor.

"Slag, slag, slag!" He tossed aside the armor, desperately worried by the fading life signs of his patient.

Blurr raced back with Kimi's body. "Where-do-I-put-her?"

"Just hold her." Ratchet ripped out the final panel, revealing Prowl's scorched and punctured spark chamber.

First Aid ran into the room then, his expression panicked. "Primus! I was a fool to ever think I wasn't needed." He grabbed Kimi's protoform from Blurr and opened her spark chamber.

"This has to be done fast but perfectly, or she's lost." Ratchet had never felt so sick in his life. He opened Prowl's spark chamber and saw the two pale energy balls, each growing faint. "Frag!" He jerked the padded energy forceps from the tool table and held them in one hand while he picked up the energy nullifier in the other. "Ready?"

"Ready!" First Aid stepped forward, holding Kimi's body alongside Prowl's.

Ratchet grimaced, then snapped the nullifier between the two sparks, cutting the power flow between them. At the same time, he grabbed the sparkling with the energy forceps and immediately transferred it to Kimi's chest. "Go!"

First Aid rushed Kimi to the smaller berth in the corner, Hoist following with him to help in stabilizing the sparkling.

"Don't lose her!" Ratchet felt coolant burn his optics. "Slaggit." He tossed down the forceps and lifted the nullifier, careful not to touch or jar Prowl's weakened spark.

Grapple took position across from him. "All leaks sealed. Energon feed attached."

"Bring me the charger." Ratchet trembled as Prowl's spark grew fainter. "We're losing him."

Grapple snatched the cart and rolled it over, and Ratchet grabbed the wand, holding it over Prowl's spark.

"Energizer charged!" Grapple stepped clear.

Ratchet touched the wand's tip to Prowl's spark, giving it a jolt of energy. The glow remained faint. "Again!"

A pause. "Charged."

He energized the spark again. Nothing. Prowl was losing his remaining life-force quickly. "Increase the energon feed and recharge the unit."

Grapple immediately complied. "Increased!" He checked the cart's readout. "Charged."

Ratchet hit the spark with another jolt of energy, knowing he was out of time. Then Prowl's spark flared like a miniature nova — a death flare — and Ratchet screamed, unable to hold back his anguish at the knowledge the spark would extinguish.

"No!" He threw down the wand, coolant pooling in his eyes. "Primus, no! You can't die! We — we saved your sparkling." He glanced at the corner for verification, and First Aid met his gaze.

"She's stable," First Aid said, his voice quiet. "Kimi is officially alive."

The news made Ratchet ache from the bitter irony. Prowl's spark flare died down, and Ratchet offlined his optics, not wanting to see the darkened chest.

"Ratchet?" Grapple whispered. "Ratchet, look!"

He onlined his optics and forced himself to look at Prowl's body. A faintly pulsing spark met his gaze, so pale he could see through it. "Primus!" He picked up the wand again. "Half charge."

Another pause. "Charged."

Ratchet touched the spark carefully, feeding it just enough energy to stabilize it but not to overtax it. The ball expanded, its blue glow growing thicker. "Got him, but he's really weak." He set down the wand, shut Prowl's spark chamber, and collected himself. "Time for emergency repairs. I want him completely stabilized in two breems!"

"Hoist and I will get the parts." Grapple rushed from the room, his friend close behind him.

First Aid stepped up to the berth, taking Grapple's place. "We'll save him," he murmured, "so don't be afraid." He looked at Blurr. "Please rush Kimi to the bomb shelter and give her to Jazz. She's completely stable, but please stay with them in case a problem occurs."

"Yesssir!" Blurr picked Kimi up gently, then raced from the room.

Ratchet sucked several deep droughts of air through his intakes, trying to calm himself. He felt a nudge against his bond and opened his mind to Wheeljack's mental knock.

_::Ratchet? Are they okay?::_ Wheeljack's pain and fear were tangible, like a mental burning sensation between them.

_::Kimi is stable. Blurr is bringing her to you and Jazz. Prowl is alive but is in critical condition. We're going to start surgery now.::_

_::Understood.::_ Wheeljack withdrew, leaving only a hum of strength to vibrate between them.

Ratchet nodded to himself, drawing on both their strength, then met First Aid's gaze. "Let's begin."

oOoOo

Jazz shivered in Wheeljack's embrace, afraid to online his optics, afraid to move, afraid to even think. For a breem neither of them had spoken. Jazz had been unable to stop himself from screaming out when he lost his connection with Prowl and the sparkling, and Wheeljack had hugged him tightly, almost as though they were genitor and offspring. Jazz had quieted then, blind to the darkness and deaf to the distant explosion of missiles. The entire universe had become unreal, silent. Dead.

Wheeljack finally stirred. "I got through to Ratchet. Kimi has been separated and stabilized, and Prowl is alive and undergoing surgery."

For a solid klik, Jazz tried to force his CPU to process the words. "W-what?"

"They're both alive." Wheeljack hugged him tighter. "Blurr is bringing Kimi to us."

Jazz finally sat up, pulling away from Wheeljack. "Yer sure?" He reached out with his bond, though, and sure enough, he could faintly sense Prowl.

Wheeljack nodded. The sound of beeping floated into the room — someone entering the access code for the door — and then Blurr stepped inside and locked the door behind him.

"Prowl-is-critical-but-stable." He whisked over to Jazz, holding out Kimi. "And-your-sparkling-is-fine."

With shaking hands, Jazz reached out to the tiny form, grasping her and hugging her to his chest. "Oh, Primus, she's beautiful!" Her visor was offline, and he could tell she was in forced recharge. However, her systems hummed quietly and a soft breath of air moved through her intakes. Her tiny hands were curled against her chest, her face looking peaceful above them. Between his terror, tension, and unbalanced subroutines, Jazz was unable to stop himself from crying. Tears of coolant pooled in his optics, only to fall and splash on Kimi's face. "Thank ya for bringin' her, Blurr."

"Absolutely-no-problem!" Blurr settled by Wheeljack, who squeezed his arm.

Jazz just smiled at Kimi, tracing his fingers over her black helm and sensory horns, blue visor, and pale grey face. Despite the dull lighting of the bomb shelter, the black paint on her arms, legs, and chest shone faintly, and the white of her waist, hips, and hands seemed to glow. He ran his hand over her blue and red racing stripes, sensing her spark beneath her armor, and managed to reign in his tears. "She was separated thirty orns early. What'll that mean?" he asked.

Wheeljack sighed. "After the battle is over, we'll need to keep her in an external gestation chamber for at least fifteen orns, if not the full thirty. She'll be attached to feeding tubes and given extra-potent energon, and we'll also attach her to monitoring equipment. The chamber will keep her warm and in recharge until we're sure her spark won't reject the protoform."

"Reject it?" Jazz glanced up, concerned.

"It's a potential problem when an unmatured sparkling is placed in a protoform too soon," Wheeljack replied. "It's a good sign that she stabilized so quickly, but we have to make sure. In fifteen orns, we'll know if there's a problem or not, and she'll be strong enough to awaken and run her systems by herself."

Jazz felt uneasy, but he noted that Wheeljack didn't seem worried and took that as a good sign. "I get ya." He smiled back at Kimi, cherishing her tiny facial features and holding one of her small hands. She fit into the crook of his arm, her body warm against his.

"She-really-is-cute," Blurr said, hopping faintly despite being seated. "In-fact-she's-totally-adorable!"

"Yeah." Jazz relaxed as some of the darkness lifted from his spark. "And I can already see her growin' up to be a kick-aft spy!"

Wheeljack and Blurr laughed. "That's-a-special-ops-mech-for-you!" Blurr said.

A low rumble hummed through the walls, building into a roaring shudder, and followed by a _boom_ that shook the entire city.

The three mechs stared at the ceiling.

"I think Metroplex got mad," Wheeljack deadpanned.

"I think the Decepticons just got their afts whipped," Jazz added, equally deadpan.

Blurr's comm. link beeped, and he put it on speaker as the voice came through.

::Kup to Blurr.::

::Blurrhere!::

::Rodimus has announced the all-clear. Teletraan's down, so help spread the word. We could also use help collecting the wounded.:: Kup paused. ::Heh, and picking up Decepticreep pieces for spare parts!:: He laughed. ::Primus, this reminds me of the battle on Ranonasalon.::

Blurr grinned. ::Absolutely-no-problem-I-can-do-that! Blurrout!:: He looked at Jazz. "Are-you-okay-getting-Kimi-back-to-medbay?"

"Sure. Go do yer thing." Jazz chuckled as Blurr zoomed from the shelter.

Wheeljack stood and waited as Jazz climbed to his feet as well. "I'll set up the gestation chamber immediately," Wheeljack said. "I'll tell you what to watch for, and you can guard Kimi while I help with the wounded."

"Thanks, 'Jack." Jazz followed him from the shelter, cuddling Kimi close and trying to keep his patience. Even though they said Prowl was stable, he wouldn't be at peace until he saw him for himself.

oOoOo

To Jazz, the medbay looked as though a bomb had exploded inside. Energon and lubricants were smeared on repair berths, scorched and bent parts littered the floor, and dozens of mechs and femmes were rushing from patient to patient.

"Holy Primus," Wheeljack muttered, gesturing for Jazz to follow him around the parameter of the room. A small glass case was hooked into the wall in the back, and Wheeljack set to work programming it.

Jazz held Kimi close to his chest, humming to her faintly as he watched the insanity. Ratchet and First Aid were nowhere to be seen, and Jazz assumed they were operating on Prowl. However, Spike, Carly, Hoist, Grapple, Swoop, Moonracer, and all the other Protectobots were working at top speed. A quick visual sweep told him the wounded had topped thirty: Tracks, Topspin, Broadside, Hound, Mirage, Beachcomber, Powerglide, the twins, Seaspray, Arcee, and Bumblebee were atop the twelve repair booths, and more mechs lined the walls. "What a slaggin' disaster," he said, frowning.

"You're not joking," Wheeljack said, opening the case. "Okay. Lay her inside."

Jazz gently placed Kimi in the chamber, then watched as Wheeljack hooked energon lines and monitoring systems to her. "Is she still okay?"

"She's looking great." Wheeljack closed the chamber and squeezed his arm. "Just watch the monitoring systems. If any readout turns yellow, tell us. If it goes red, it's an emergency."

Jazz nodded, feeling numb. "I can do that." He paused. "But would you check on Prowler's surgery for me?"

"Sure." Wheeljack headed for ICU 1. "I'll buzz your comm. link once I've determined his condition."

"Thanks, man." Jazz slid down the wall and sat on the floor, his gaze wandering back and forth between Kimi's readouts and the wounded Autobots. In that moment, he'd never felt that the war was more meaningless. Such senseless violence, suffering, and death thanks to power mongering. It made no sense: Kill the enemy to preserve other lives. Yet at the same time, Jazz knew Galvatron would never give up, so they couldn't either. To give up meant total annihilation. "Death," he whispered. "It's all about death."

::Wheeljack to Jazz.::

::Here!:: Jazz felt his spark lurch.

::Prowl's still in critical condition, but he's growing stronger,:: Wheeljack explained. ::Ratchet and First Aid are repairing his spark chamber and chest armor and have him attached to energon feeds. They're moving to his injured doorwing after that. For now, the surgery's going well, so please relax.::

Jazz exhaled heavily, trembling in relief. ::Thanks again, 'Jack.::

::Sure thing. Wheeljack out.::

Suddenly exhausted, Jazz leaned back against the wall and stared blankly at the medbay. Frantic activity surrounded him. Swoop was sealing off leaking energon lines in Arcee's leg; Hoist was dismantling Mirage's crushed shoulder. Wheeljack exited ICU 1 and looked over the crowd, then made his way to Powerglide, who Jazz realized was missing one wing. The twins were on adjacent berths and were staring at each other in that intense fashion that suggested one or both of them had nearly died and much reassurance was needed. Even as Jazz watched, Sides reached out his hand, and Sunny grasped it momentarily.

Feeling a wave of empathy and pain for everyone in the room, Jazz forced himself to look away and watch Kimi's vital signs. He'd always cared about his fellow Autobots, but with the Gestation Protection program unbalancing his emotional subroutines, he couldn't keep his feelings under control. They flared out from him, making his circuits tingle and burn, and he had to force himself to remain calm. The quiet hum of Kimi's monitor, showing stable energy readings from her spark and main processor, helped soothe him. Gathering his courage, he reached out for Prowl's spark again. A faint but steady tendril of their bond answered him, and he latched on to it with all his mental power, encouraging it, caressing it, and sending strength to it.

With a hydraulic hiss, the medbay doors opened, and Bluestreak rushed over to Sunstreaker. Jazz didn't look pay them much attention until he heard Bluestreak's yelp.

"Jazz! Oh Primus are you okay and is Prowl okay and slag, is that Kimi?" Bluestreak rushed across the room and dropped to Jazz's side, his optics burning intense cerulean with worry. "It is Kimi! What happened to Prowl?"

"Prowl was badly injured." Jazz realized his voice was abnormally quiet. "They had to do an emergency separation. Kimi's stable, and Prowl's in surgery." He felt exhaustion roll through his systems in a crashing wave.

Bluestreak glanced at Kimi's monitor, then turned back to Jazz, wrapping his arms around him and hugging him. "I'm so sorry and that's really scary but I'm glad Kimi's okay and if Prowl's in surgery do they think he'll be okay too?"

"Well, 'Jack seemed hopeful." Jazz leaned against Bluestreak, grateful for the way the younger mech had responded to his and Prowl's attention and allowed them to 'adopt' him. Bluestreak really felt like family, and his hug was comforting.

Bluestreak patted his back. "Good that's good. I'll help you two any way you need, I promise, like watching Kimi when you're on shift or running errands for you or getting you extra energon or whatever you need."

"I know ya will." Jazz rested his head on his shoulder. "Yer a great kid. Ya always . . . have been." He felt the sudden and overwhelming need to recharge. "Kimi and Silverstreak . . . couldn't have a . . . better older brother." Talking seemed like such an effort. "Blue . . . I'm really, really . . ."

Jazz felt it then: one by one, his systems began shutting down, starting with peripheral ones and moving toward the major ones. A soft, decreasing whine followed each system as it clicked off, and Jazz realized the room was growing dark. He just couldn't seem to figure out why he should care.

oOoOo

Wheeljack sighed as he removed the final pieces of jagged metal from Powerglide's torn wing. He had his patient in stasis lock, but he'd shut down all the pain receptors anyway. Losing a limb was disturbing for any 'bot, and the neural circuitry always sent back ghost sensory pings. For planes and jets, though, the loss of a wing tended to lead to insanity. Wheeljack wanted Powerglide fixed, onlined, and reassured as soon as possible. However, his thoughts were interrupted by a sudden scream.

"Jazz!"

Bluestreak. Wheeljack glanced toward Kimi's external gestation chamber to see Jazz collapsed on Bluestreak's shoulder. Alarmed, Wheeljack immediately moved in their direction.

"Wheeljack!" Bluestreak gestured wildly. "Jazz just passed out and I don't know why but he was talking slower and slower and then he slumped against me and now — "

"Let me see." Wheeljack knelt beside them and pulled a scanner from his subspace, quickly running a diagnostic. "He's in emergency stasis lock." He relaxed. "Okay, I can't say I'm surprised."

"Emergency stasis lock!" Bluestreak hugged Jazz to his chest.

Wheeljack squeezed the young mech's shoulder. "It's all right. It's not wonderful, but his body did what it was supposed to do. The Gestation Protection program did what it was supposed to do."

"What?"

"His systems were overtaxed, and it was beginning to put stress on the sparkling." Wheeljack opened Jazz's access panel and initiated a forced stasis lock. "His sparkling is weak to begin with, so we suspected he'd end up on berth rest at some point. That time has now come. We'll keep him in stasis lock for as long as necessary to ensure both his and his sparkling's health."

Bluestreak nodded. "Oh I see. But there are no berths open so where are we going to put him right now and who's going to watch over Kimi?"

Wheeljack smiled. "He's going to lie on the floor right here beside you, and you're going to watch Kimi."

"Oh! Well sure I can do that I have no problem watching over Kimi at all." Bluestreak lowered Jazz to the floor and arranged him in a comfortable position. Not that Jazz would know any differently.

"Good. I'm going to report this to Ratchet, so if you need me use your comm. link." Feeling sure Bluestreak would be vigilant, Wheeljack stood and made his way to ICU 1, which had been temporarily converted into a surgery room. He cringed as he entered, disturbed by the sight of Prowl's spark chamber being open and missing its doors.

"What happened?" Ratchet asked, not looking up from his patient. He and First Aid were working quickly to repair the hole in the spark chamber's side.

"Jazz fell into emergency stasis lock. Looks like the time has come to put him on berth rest." Wheeljack cocked his head, gazing at the open circuitry and sealed off energon lines in Prowl's chassis. "Please tell me things are going well in here."

"As soon as we're done repairing the hole we'll be installing new spark chamber doors." Ratchet frowned in concentration. "Did you go ahead and put Jazz into forced stasis lock?"

"Yes." An uneasy silence filled the room as Wheeljack watched them work. "You can save Prowl, right?"

Ratchet finally glanced up, giving him a tight smile. "I refuse to give up until I do."

Knowing the utter truth contained in those words, Wheeljack nodded and returned to his patient in the main bay. For the next solid orn or more, none of them would be doing anything other than repairs.

oOoOo

Prowl heard a faint hum — distant, meaningless. Saw . . . nothing. Darkness. Under his back, doorwings, hands, legs — warm metal. Where was he? What had happened? Fight with Decepticons . . . a hit to the chest . . . Blurr —

Panic surged through his circuits. The sparkling! He ran a systems check, found himself only operating at 72.3 percent, then pressed beyond, using the Gestation Protection subroutine.

Which was dormant.

No sparkling.

Prowl initiated a quick reboot, forcing his optics and audios online, and gasped. His vocal processor hissed with static, then he managed to form a word. "K-k-kimi!"

The silver ICU ceiling sharpened into focus, and a warm hand took his and squeezed it. He expected to have Jazz lean over him then, but instead it was Wheeljack, who had released his blast mask.

"It's okay, Prowl," he whispered with a small smile. "Kimi is safe."

Prowl tried to process the words, paused, and then finally understood the message: his sparkling was alive. "Where?"

"Ratchet performed an emergency separation, so she's in her body." Wheeljack placed his other hand over Prowl's and squeezed again. "Kimi's in an external gestation chamber. Bluestreak's watching over her. In fact, we can't get him to leave. He's been watching her for the last fifteen joors."

Prowl smiled faintly, only to have the next logical question hit him. "Where is Jazz?"

"Stasis lock." Wheeljack's voice remained calm, soothing. "We nearly lost you again. The stress of worrying over you and Kimi began to overtax his sparkling, so his body shut him down."

Fear surged through Prowl's tank. "Stasis lock?" He reached through their bond, trying to find Jazz's presence. Faint, but there. "His condition?"

"Stable. Ratchet ran a full diagnostic on him before he basically fell into recharge standing up." Wheeljack paused and grinned. "He ordered me to recharge for at least six joors, so I did. He's out cold now, so I'm watching over you and Jazz, as well as Kimi. Don't worry. I won't let anything happen to any of the three of you."

Reassured, Prowl let himself relax, and as soon as he did, he only wanted one thing. "Can I see her?"

Wheeljack hesitated. "Well, she is stable, and we can take her out for short periods of time. No longer than a breem, though."

"I would settle even for a single klik." Just as long as he got to hold her in his arms.

"I'll get her." Wheeljack smiled and released his hand, then retreated from the room.

Prowl stared at the ICU ceiling, something he had not wanted to see again for a long time after his near death, and wished with all his spark that Jazz could be with him for this moment. Clearly that was going to be impossible, however. After a klik, Wheeljack entered the room, carrying a recharging form that looked like a miniature, female Jazz.

"Here she is," Wheeljack said, laying Kimi on his chest.

Prowl hugged her to him, running one finger over her tiny visor, nose, and lips and feeling overwhelmed with awe. "She's utter perfection." Her hands were curled into small fists and her expression peaceful. No longer a metal protoform painted up and programmed, she was alive, ensouled, a sparkling burning in her chest. "This is amazing." He knew in an instant he'd do anything to keep her safe and happy.

"Isn't it?" Wheeljack's voice was a whisper. "I understand why 'bots choose to build, and direct infusion from the Matrix or Vector Sigma is nothing to be downplayed. But to know you had a more direct hand in it and to see the result is truly profound."

Prowl nodded and hugged Kimi closer, only to grimace as a disturbing thought hit him. "Did Jazz get to see her before he went into stasis lock?"

"Yes." Wheeljack patted his shoulder. "He got to see her and hold her. In fact, he was watching over her when he fell unconscious."

"I see." Prowl kissed Kimi's helm, then despite the sense of loss it caused him, handed her back to Wheeljack. "I suppose you'd best return her to the gestation chamber. How long will she have to remain there?"

"At least fifteen orns." Wheeljack cuddled the sleeping sparkling and headed for the door. "First Aid's remaining here for the next thirty orns, so Ratchet, First Aid, and I will all be taking turns looking after you, Jazz, and Kimi."

Prowl relaxed faintly. "Thank you." He watched Wheeljack nod and leave, taking his daughter with him. However, once he was alone a grey fog of depression descended upon him. Thirty orns without Jazz? Fifteen without Kimi? And stuck in ICU himself? The mere thought seemed unbearable.

"Primus, let this pass quickly," he muttered to the empty room.

* * *

_Postscript: I've begun a Ratchet and Wheeljack side story that runs alongside this one, "A Second Destiny." If you are a RxW fan, please check it out._

_Thank you to the following for their reviews and encouragement: pl2363, Hikarigirl18, Randomstrike, Elita One, PrancingTiger86, Sergeant Duck, Lady Prime, and Independent.C. Also, thank you to everyone who has put an alert on this story or faved it!_


	8. Family

_A/N: This chapter references "The Return of Optimus Prime I & II."_

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_"Call it a clan, call it a network, call it a tribe, call it a family.  
Whatever you call it, whoever you are, you need one."_  
-Jane Howard

_**Chapter 8: Family**_

Prowl keyed in the access code to his quarters and dragged himself inside. Twenty orns of torment. Twenty. The first seven orns he'd been in ICU, unable to see Jazz at all and only able to see Kimi for a breem once a orn. The second seven he'd been released for active duty but could still only gaze at the unconscious forms of his bondmate and daughter. Even now, Jazz was still in forced stasis lock, but at least Prowl had Kimi.

Pausing as the door hissed shut behind him, Prowl gazed at Bluestreak, who was sitting on the floor with Kimi. He had one arm wrapped around her waist, hugging her, but he was giving her enough room to play with an electro-puzzle on his lap. He glanced up and smiled at Prowl.

"Hi! She's doing really amazing with this puzzle and wow you all really gave her a top notch processor because the databanks said a sparkling needed to be at least a stellar cycle old to do this puzzle but she's figuring it out with little help." Bluestreak paused, a worried frown crossing his face. "Are you okay Prowl because you look extra tired and I can stay if you need because that's the whole reason I asked to be moved to third shift so don't feel like you're imposing on me."

Prowl had to smile. Bluestreak had been hovering over Kimi even before she was released from the gestation chamber, and for the last seven orns he'd been babysitting. "Well, I _am_ imposing on you. You spend more of your time here than with Sunstreaker and Sideswipe." Sometimes Prowl wondered if Bluestreak was secretly bonded to both the twins, not just Sunstreaker. For all he knew, maybe it even had to work that way. So far, he hadn't been able to bring himself to ask Bluestreak, and no one else had ever said anything.

Kimi's attention had been draw away from the puzzle, and she was holding out her arms, clicking and chirping happily. Prowl walked over and lifted her from Bluestreak's lap, hugging her close.

"I don't mind really I don't and Sunny and Sides really do understand." Bluestreak set aside the puzzle and stood as well. "Besides she's always so quiet and frankly spending time around her has a calming effect on me."

Wrapping her arms around his neck, Kimi hugged Prowl back and chirped at him in what sounded like a question.

"I'm fine," Prowl replied, his sparkling interlink program giving him some idea of what Kimi was asking. He rubbed her back with one finger and gently kissed her forehead, right above her visor. "Just tired." He glanced at Bluestreak. "You can spend as much time with Kimi as you like, but if you want to go somewhere with Sunstreaker or need to be elsewhere, feel free to go. I'm already eternally grateful for what you've done thus far."

Bluestreak grinned. "Thanks and I'll remember that. But you need me right now and I won't let you down."

"You never could," Prowl replied quietly. He hugged Kimi tightly, then handed her back to Bluestreak. "Watch her for a few kliks more, then, if you don't mind. I want to check on Jazz again."

Bluestreak nodded, cuddling Kimi against his chassis. She snuggled against him with contented chirps. "No problem."

Prowl returned the nod and headed toward medbay. He had become compulsive about checking his bond with Jazz and his interlink with Silverstreak. Although he realized the behavior was irrational, he found himself pinging the bonds at least once a breem, just to assure himself all was well. Nothing, however, could replace seeing Jazz in person.

When the medbay doors cycled open, Ratchet glanced up from Jazz's berth and gave him a knowing smile. "I figured you'd be here soon."

"Indeed." As he joined the CMO, Prowl gazed at the still form of his bondmate, trying to hide his anxiousness. "Any changes?"

Ratchet set down the scanner he'd been using and smiled. "Actually, Jazz is strong enough now that I've decided to bring him out of stasis lock in the morning. I could leave him in stasis right through the separation surgery, but I'd prefer not to if at all possible. Carriers can sense things that even my most sensitive monitors can't."

Pausing for a moment to ensure he had heard Ratchet correctly, Prowl clenched his fists in excitement. "You'll awaken him tomorrow? Truly?"

"Yes," Ratchet replied. "Barring any overnight complications, of course."

Prowl smiled. "Thank you." He stepped closer to Jazz, touching his cheek lightly. At this point he just wanted to hear his voice, his laugh. Even just see his smile. He missed him, and more than that, he hated that Jazz hadn't been there when Kimi had been released.

"I assume you'll want to be here when I awaken him," Ratchet said, "so meet me here at 0900 hours Earth time."

"I will." Prowl nodded his thanks and left, heading back to his daughter and 'adopted' son. He was so tired he felt as though he could go into recharge standing up, but his exhaustion wouldn't cause a problem. Even though Kimi had her own miniature recharge berth in the corner of his quarters, she could easily and safely recharge beside him, where he could react instantly to any need she had. He didn't need Bluestreak to remain.

However, when Prowl entered his quarters, he found Bluestreak recharging on his berth, Kimi tucked in his arms. As Prowl neared Kimi onlined long enough to coo at him, and he brushed one fingertip down her grey face. She chirped happily, then fell back into recharge. Touched to a degree he'd never admit, Prowl gazed at the endearing scene a moment longer, then joined them on the berth. He'd considered Bluestreak his youngling for too long to be disturbed at sharing a berth with him for a few joors.

Relaxing with a smile, Prowl committed himself to recharge, knowing that when morning arrived, he'd be reunited with Jazz, and Kimi would be in the care of both her genitors again.

oOoOo

Awakening even before his chronometer sent him his morning alert, Prowl was startled to find Bluestreak still recharging beside him, Kimi curled in his arms. "You missed your shift!" The words were out of his vocal processor before he realized it was illogical to talk to someone recharging. The sound, however, startled Bluestreak awake.

"Hm?" Bluestreak's optics focused on Prowl. "Oh I'm so sorry! I didn't mean to fall into recharge here but I was suddenly so tired — not that I mind taking care of Kimi because I love to — so I decided to rest until you returned and why didn't you wake me up?"

"Apparently I should have." Prowl checked for messages on his internal comm. link, but none were recorded. "You missed your shift."

"Oh!" A look of horror passed across Bluestreak's face, then he grew still in the manner of someone accessing his bond. "Ohhh, Sunny and Sides took care of it for me. Apparently they kept each other awake through my shift by — " He grimaced. "Try not to be too hard on them, okay? They did it to help me out."

Prowl groaned and shook his head. Whatever it was, it could wait. Or perhaps someone else had already handled the problem for him, too. "I understand." He sighed. "Well, as long as you're here, would you like to accompany me to medbay? They're bringing Jazz out of stasis lock this morning."

"Really? That's great! Sure I'll go!" Bluestreak slowly sat up, holding Kimi close, but she awakened and gazed at them with bright blue optics, which shone through her visor. She chirped at them, smiling, then paused, frowned, and squealed.

"Feeding time," Prowl said, climbing off the berth and heading toward the stash of super-condensed sparkling energon in the corner. Bluestreak followed him, handing over Kimi once Prowl had picked up a miniature cube and settled on the couch.

"I'll go get us some energon," Bluestreak said, obviously peppy with happiness, and nearly dashed from the cabin.

Prowl smiled to himself, amused, then watched Kimi as he fed her. She met his gaze as she drank, and if her soft expression wasn't enough to tell him, then the faint buzz of the Sparkling Interlink subroutine let him feel her love. He felt humbled by the magnitude of it. The tiny femme in his arms, with her miniature hands clasped over his fingers, had granted him instant trust and love. The bond between them was of a completely different type and class than the one he shared with Jazz, but the net effect was the same: they traded their mutual adoration without words.

When she finished her cube, he set it aside and rubbed his fingertip over her little black helm and sensory horns, her visor, and her cheeks. She giggled, then cooed at him, patting his finger.

The door comm. buzzed, and Bluestreak entered without being invited. "Here's our energon." He sounded uncomfortable, and as he crossed the room and handed Prowl his cube, he frowned. "It was weird because other than Sunny and Sides, no one was in the rec room and I didn't pass anyone in the corridors and I swear the whole place seems empty. Sunny and Sides didn't know what to think either but my shift was supposed to be in the munitions bunker, rechecking stock, cataloging weapons — you know all that boring stuff that Sunny and Sides would normally avoid at all costs — so they wouldn't have seen anyone anyway, and we can't figure out where anyone is because when we radioed the comm. center, no one answered."

Prowl nearly choked on his mouthful of energon. _"What?"_ He immediately buzzed the comm. center, but he also got no response. Worried, he contacted Ratchet next.

A pause, then a leery-sounded Ratchet answered. ::Who is it?::

::Prowl.:: He found Ratchet's response particularly odd. ::Bluestreak reports . . . Well, never mind. What is going on?::

::It's insane. Wheeljack and I have locked ourselves in the medbay. Get your afts here ASAP, and I mean use your top speed. Don't stop to look at or talk to anyone! Ratchet out.::

Prowl sat for a moment, utterly bewildered, then shared the conversation with Bluestreak.

"That's creepy." Bluestreak pulled his rifle from subspace. "I'll pass the message to Sunny and Sides. Let's go."

Prowl nodded, and Kimi squealed again, apparently sensing their unease. Without further hesitation, they ran to medbay, where Sunstreaker and Sideswipe were awaiting them. The medbay doors didn't open for them, however.

"What in the Pit?" Sunstreaker asked, clearly unamused.

"I don't know," Prowl replied, holding Kimi protectively close. The oddness only added to his alarm; something apparently had gone wrong and with devastating results. He opened his comm. link. ::Ratchet? We're here.::

::We see you.:: The doors hissed open then, and the mechs dashed inside, the doors nearly clipping their heels as they slid shut again and locked. Ratchet and Wheeljack were crouching behind the farthest berth, both aiming blasters at their visitors.

"Report," Prowl said, disturbed on multiple levels, not the least of which was that guns were aimed at Kimi.

Ratchet visibly relaxed and lowered his weapon. "Thank Primus none of you are infected. Sorry about the blasters, but we had to be extra careful."

"Infected?" Prowl felt increasingly bemused. _Just what happened while I was in recharge?_ He glanced at Jazz's unconscious form just to assure himself that his bondmate was still safe.

"Infected with what?" Sunstreaker asked.

Wheeljack stood and turned to the computer, bringing up a live feed of the nearest city. "We're calling it the Hate Plague. It was caused by some spores two human scientists brought back from space."

Prowl stepped closer to the display, Kimi whimpering in his arms. To his horror, the screen showed chaos and violence: burnt-out cars, smashed buildings, and smoke plumes. Autobots, Decepticons, and humans all fought against each other, and strangely, their bodies glowed an almost radioactive crimson. "The Hate Plague?"

Ratchet stepped up beside him. "The spores contain a highly contagious viral agent, and the plague is transferred by touch. The last we heard from Rodimus, he'd sent Sky Lynx after a Quintesson for help."

"A Quintesson?" Prowl frowned at the mere concept. "But based on what we've learned — "

Ratchet gripped his shoulder. "Don't freeze up on me, Prowl, but the humans brought back more than the spores. They brought back the body of Optimus Prime. I don't know the details. All I know is that Rodimus wants the Quint to revive Optimus in the hopes that he'll know what to do about the plague."

Feeling his processor glitch, Prowl fought hard not to fall into immediate stasis lock. "Primus!"

After a moment of collective stunned silence, Sideswipe spoke. "What do we do?"

"Stay put, if we can," Wheeljack answered, his vocal indicators flashing red as he spoke. "If we leave the medbay, we run the risk of being infected." He put his hand over his chest. "And I don't need to tell you what would happen to my sparkling if that occurred."

Prowl shuddered. The thought of losing _any_ sparkling made him ill, but in Wheeljack's case, the cruelty would be beyond compare. "All right. We'll hole up here, then." He turned his gaze to his bondmate. "What about Jazz? Are you leaving him in stasis lock?"

"No, we have to bring him around, just in case we have to flee." Ratchet grimaced. "Even if he were left in forced stasis lock, if he got infected, Silverstreak would extinguish."

Every piece of metal in Prowl's chassis seemed suddenly infused with liquid nitrogen. "No," he whispered, terrified. In his arms, Kimi screamed as though she sensed her brother's peril.

Wheeljack immediately turned pure business. "Blue, Sunny, Sides: guard the doors. If we're attacked, you'll be our last line of defense. Prowl, you focus on keeping Kimi calm while Ratchet and I bring Jazz around."

Prowl nodded, and the young warriors took position without question. Ratchet gave his bondmate an odd look, likely surprised by his abrupt take-charge attitude, but he said nothing as they walked to Jazz's berth.

"Here we go," Ratchet said, accessing the appropriate panel in Jazz's chest.

The whirl of systems rebooting filled the air, and Prowl rushed to Jazz's side as he came online. "Hello, there," he said, keeping his tone quiet.

Jazz slowly turned his head, and Prowl could feel him focusing through their bond. "Prowler? What happened?" His gaze fell on their daughter. "Kimi!"

"There was too much stress on your systems, so you went into stasis lock," Ratchet explained as Prowl carefully lowered Kimi onto Jazz's chest. "We kept you that way for your sparkling's sake."

Jazz hugged Kimi and kissed her helm. Prowl couldn't help smiling, despite their dire situation. Seeing his bondmate and their daughter together warmed him. He could also feel echoes of Jazz's happiness as he held her, and he basked in the feeling, letting it wash through him and ease some of his tension.

"I can _feel_ Silverstreak," Jazz said after inspecting Kimi, as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her. "He seems fine. Is he fine?"

"For now," Wheeljack said. "In fact, Silverstreak's energy levels are perfectly stable, but we have a completely different problem at the moment." He outlined the situation.

"Ah, slag no!" At hearing this news, Jazz struggled into a sitting position. "I've made it this far. There's no way I'm losin' my sparklin' right at the end!"

"Careful!" Wheeljack put one hand on his back, supporting him.

Kimi hugged Jazz's neck and squeaked faintly. "She's afraid," Jazz said, and his sadness over that realization burnt through their bond to Prowl.

Prowl grimaced. "Yes, but we'll keep her safe. We'll keep all of us — "

A _thud_ jarred the medbay doors, and everyone jumped. Angry voices pierced the metal:

"We know you're in there! You can't escape us."

"We'll smash ya ta pieces, ya know!"

"Cowards! Come out and fight us!"

Jazz gasped, a sickly, wheezing intake of air.

Wheeljack turned toward the monitors. "Slaggit! There're five of them, all armed. I'd hoped they wouldn't return inside, but no such luck. This is not good."

Jazz shoved Kimi at Prowl. "R-r-ratch!"

Prowl grabbed Kimi, pulling her close as Jazz's fear bloomed through their bond, and he became afraid as well, unsure of what was happening to his bondmate. Ratchet picked up a scanner, but Jazz was already clutching his chest, right over his spark chamber.

"Lie down," Ratchet ordered, and Jazz slumped back onto the berth, pressing both hands against his chassis. Ratchet scanned his spark chamber.

"_Hurts_," Jazz bit out.

"Too much stress!" Ratchet tossed the scanner aside. "Your sparkling is separating _now_."

"What?" Prowl again felt the glitch try to freeze his processor. "You're going to have to separate the sparkling in the middle of a fight?"

Wheeljack ran across the room to the storage cabinets, opening the one that contained Silverstreak's protoform. "We don't have a choice," he called over his shoulder.

"He's right." Ratchet frowned, utterly grim. "If I don't get that sparkling out, they'll both die."

Prowl sank to the floor, unable to process any further information but refusing to fall into stasis lock when Kimi needed his protection. "Please," he whispered. "Don't let them die."

"Don't intend to," Ratchet replied as Wheeljack returned with Silverstreak's protoform.

Prowl found himself staring blankly at the berth's side, unable to look away. _I will stay online. I will stay online._ The grey metal blurred faintly as his gaze intensified, but still he couldn't reengage with the activity around him. For countless kliks, nothing seemed real, not even Kimi, who cried against his chest. He could only hear the cacophony of voices around him.

"Blue, get back!" Sunstreaker. "We're seriously going to need a sharpshooter, and you need to keep your distance."

"You can't let them touch you, either!" Sideswipe.

"Jazz, I need you to open your spark chamber for me." Ratchet, calm but authoritative. "The separation is proceeding abnormally quickly. We need to get in there now."

Jazz groaned in pain, then came the sounds of transforming metal.

"It's all right." Wheeljack, soothing. "What you're feeling is normal. It's the squeezing off the energy tendril that keeps your sparkling attached to your spark. It's causing spikes and surges, but neither of you are being hurt by it, okay?"

"'kay." Jazz's voice was wheezy.

"Take in deep droughts of air through your intakes." A distracted-sounding Ratchet. "It'll help your systems stay balanced and disperse those surges." A pause. "'Jack, hand me the padded energy forceps."

Prowl forced his gaze upward at last, seeing Wheeljack hand over an odd instrument with circular ends. He was holding Silverstreak's body in his other arm.

"You're almost done," Wheeljack told Jazz, his vocal indicators flashing a soft blue. "The separation is nearly complete."

Glancing to Ratchet, Prowl realized the CMO was holding the forceps over Jazz's chest, as though ready to pluck out the sparkling at a moment's notice. _::Jazz, hold on . . .::_

_::Prowler!::_

The banging on the doors grew louder, and Prowl jumped as the screech of bending metal ripped through the room. His processor strained further, causing his doorwings to twitch with tension.

"They're going to give in!" Bluestreak fell back, putting himself between Jazz's berth and the door and raising his rifle.

"Slag it all!" Sunstreaker growled, aiming his weapon at the dent in the doors. "It doesn't matter who they are, we're gonna have to offline them."

"Almost there," Wheeljack whispered, leaning closer to Jazz. "Just stay clam."

Voices punctured the weak doors. "Breach it! Kick it in or blast it, just breach it!"

With a start, Prowl managed to reboot his battle computer and slowly stand. Hugging Kimi against him with his left arm, he used his right hand to pull his rifle from subspace. As his battle computer took over all his cerebral systems, he felt numb, almost as though all his actions were occurring by rote.

"Almost there," Wheeljack repeated.

The metal doors screamed and burst inward under the pressure of the insane mechs beyond. The twins and Bluestreak fired immediately, knocking out the two minibots who rushed through the opening. Wreck-Gar was trying to force his way in behind them.

"Now!" Ratchet yelled, and in his peripheral vision, Prowl saw him snap the forceps into Jazz's spark chamber. An astrosecond later, he pulled out a small, blue ball, and Wheeljack held out Silverstreak's protoform. Worry pierced his numbness, and Prowl dared to look as Ratchet shoved the sparkling into its spark chamber and held it there. A few nanokliks passed, and the sparkling brightened.

"Got it!" Wheeljack pulled Silverstreak back to his chest as soon as Ratchet removed the forceps.

Before Prowl could feel relieved, however, Sideswipe screamed.

"Frag!" Sideswipe tried to dodge Wreck-Gar, but he tackled him to the ground. Upon contact, Sideswipe's body began glowing red.

"'Where's the beef?'" Wreck-Gar asked, sneering, and Sideswipe laughed maniacally.

"Slaggit!" Ratchet pointed to his office. "Prowl! Wheeljack! Barricade yourselves in with Kimi and Silverstreak."

Without argument, Wheeljack ran to the back, but Prowl stared at Jazz, who was clearly exhausted. "But Jazz is — "

"Go! I'll get Jazz."

Sideswipe attacked Sunstreaker, who howled like a turbowolf as his body illuminated. Realizing he had little time, Prowl ran toward the office, but not before seeing Wreck-Gar wrestle Bluestreak to the floor. Although Ratchet was right behind him, half-carrying and half-dragging Jazz, Prowl knew the situation was hopeless. They were outnumbered and fighting something they couldn't control or understand.

_"Light our darkest hour."_ Optimus Prime's voice seemed to echo in Prowl's mind, and he halted abruptly, fearing he'd somehow become infected and gone insane like the rest. He whirled around instinctively. Wreck-Gar had grabbed Ratchet, and Bluestreak had Jazz. Eight howling mechs pressed in upon him, their crimson glow casting half the room into flickering shadows. Prowl clutched Kimi tightly, horrified to know her screams would be the last thing he'd hear as a sane mech.

Then a blue light pierced the room, electrifying the air as wound its way around Prowl's attackers, making their bodies shimmer. The madness visibly drained from their optics, the aggression and red glow from their bodies, and they stood staring at him, as though confused as to what had happened.

_Stasis lock imminent,_ Prowl's processor announced. _Ten astroseconds._ "Jazz," he said, holding out Kimi.

Jazz accepted her, cuddling her against his chest. "Prowler? What's . . .? Wait, I got infected, didn't I?"

_. . . six, five, four . . ._

"Yes," Prowl replied. "But you're fine now." He tried to smile and promptly keeled over, unconscious.

oOoOo

In the quiet of their quarters, Prowl settled on the berth next to Jazz, who held both Kimi and Silverstreak to his chest, close to his spark. Once his doorwings were comfortable, Prowl picked up Silverstreak, smiling as the sparkling chirped happily and waved his tiny limbs, and tucked him against his chassis. He had never felt so glad to be conscious and out of medbay.

"We've got beautiful sparklings," Jazz whispered, leaning against Prowl's shoulder. Kimi cooed and chirped, as though sensing the compliment.

Prowl kissed his bondmate's helm. "Yes, we do." He gazed at Silverstreak, awestruck by his tiny black doorwings and red chevron. So small, yet so alive.

"No one should ever have ta go through a separation during a battle," Jazz said. He slumped, exhaling air through his vents in obvious exhaustion. "I was scared outta my mind and convinced we weren't gonna make it."

Thinking over the orn's outstanding events, Prowl sighed. "Yes, given the madness that had overtaken the planet, I would have never imagined we could have ended the orn with such tranquility and joy. But we finally have both our sparklings, and we even have Optimus Prime back with us." He shook his head, still mystified at the Quintesson's begrudging help. "Blaster said earlier that even the Decepticons are quiet for now."

Nodding faintly, Jazz scooted closer to Prowl. With some shifting, they managed to embrace each other with one arm while using their free arms to cuddle their sparklings. "It's all so strange," Jazz finally replied. "I ain't complainin', of course. After all the scares we went through, we deserve a break."

"Indeed." Prowl smiled softly, watching Silverstreak slowly relax and drift toward recharge. "I knew all along it was a great risk, but I'm glad we took it."

Their door comm. buzzed, and knowing Bluestreak would stop to check on them, Prowl didn't hesitate. "Come in!" The door hissed open, but to Prowl's surprise, Bluestreak was not alone. Optimus Prime stood by him, his strong red and blue frame dwarfing the doorway.

"Prime," Jazz said quietly, still obviously awed by the return of their previous leader.

"I've come to see the new family." Optimus's joy was evident in his intense cerulean optics. "Bluestreak's been filling me in on the details, but nothing can compare to a visit."

Prowl found himself inordinately glad that Optimus was able to meet his and Jazz's sparklings after all. "We're happy to have you, of course."

Optimus entered the cabin, followed closely by a grinning Bluestreak, and knelt by their berth, gazing at Kimi and Silverstreak. "You did wonderfully. I can tell with a single scan just how special they both are."

"Thank ya!" Jazz grinned with blatant pride.

Bluestreak looked ready to burst. "I told you they were perfect and they're so easy to look after and they're so smart and we're all so happy you're actually here to see them!"

Chuckling, Optimus glanced up at the gunner. "The excited older brother, I see."

Bluestreak just smiled.

"His help has been priceless," Prowl said, giving his adopted youngling a grateful look.

"I have no doubt." Optimus reached out, gently caressing the tiny faces of each sparkling. Kimi, still being awake, cooed at him and patted his finger. Optimus laughed. "I see what you mean about their intelligence. She's obviously highly self-aware already."

Jazz snorted good-naturedly. "Hey, with us as genitors, what did ya expect? We wouldn't settle for anythin' less than the best, plus we made sure pieces of our own programmin' were in each of 'em."

"But of course." Optimus sounded amused. "Well, I shall leave you alone now. I need to check on Ratchet and Wheeljack." He stood and shook his head. "It's hard to imagine that we'll have three sparklings running around the base at the same time, but I must say I couldn't be happier."

"I hope you're that pleased when they all three hit the 'No' phase at the same time," Prowl said wryly.

Optimus laughed. "We'll survive somehow. We managed to survive Sunstreaker and Sideswipe, after all. Plus the Dinobots!" He patted Jazz on the shoulder and nodded to Prowl, then headed out the door. Bluestreak waved goodbye and followed him.

Silence descended upon the room once their visitors left, then Jazz stirred. "Being genitors . . . it changes everythin'." His voice was quiet. "What I notice, what priorities I have, what I care about. Everythin'."

"Yes, it does." Prowl leaned his head against his bondmate's, watching Kimi fall into recharge and experiencing a level of peace he'd never imagined possible.

"Well, it changes everythin' except one." Jazz turned his head and kissed Prowl's cheek before settling against him again. "Yer still the universe to me."

Prowl returned the kiss. "And I'll be with you always, till all are one."

"Till all are one," Jazz agreed, echoing a small part of their bonding vows.

Prowl waited until Jazz and both sparklings were comfortably recharging before allowing his systems to power down. Morning would come, bringing peace or war, new lives or deaths, but Prowl knew his spark would never waver. What mattered most existed between him, his bondmate, and their sparklings: a small but living example of what Prowl and Jazz fought for and hoped for, what the Autobots encapsulated in their own quirky way.

Family.

* * *

_Postscript: Thank you for following me on this unexpected ride! I appreciate your support and feedback. My attention will now turn to "A Second Destiny," "Magic and Loss," and the sequel to "Sound and Fury." It's all a matter of time, which I don't have a lot of at the moment. "Magic and Loss" will be the easiest to update because I have almost 8 chapters of it finished already. [Don't worry, Independent C.! I'm not a story-dropper. I was just squished for time and posted what was edited, which turned out to be a new story. As a reader, I find nothing more frustrating than an abandoned story!]_

_Thanks to Lady Prime for the beta. I appreciate your input!_


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